


Challenge Two: Multimedia

by Anonymous



Category: Merlin (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-06
Updated: 2013-07-06
Packaged: 2017-12-17 20:38:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 114,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/871737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Entries for Challenge Two: Multimedia for summerpornathon 2013</p><p>Voting post can be found <a href="http://summerpornathon.livejournal.com/90915.html">here.</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Group A (warnings)

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings (and inspiration/pairing) included in chapters 1-4.
> 
> Chapters 5-8 are repeats of chapters 1-4 without warnings or inspiration/pairings information.

**1.**

**Inspired by:** [Gif #2](http://i.imgur.com/injACeD.gif)  
 **Pairing:** Merlin/Arthur  
 **Warnings:** very mild painplay

Merlin looked at his mobile and groaned.

“What?” he answered, irritated.

“I don’t know why you’re being such a tosser about this. It’s not like you haven’t got the time.”

“Time isn’t the problem, Gwaine, I just don’t feel like swimming,” Merlin snapped. “And I’m not being a tosser, I’m assertively declining.”

“Yeah, yeah. It’s just not like you, is all. It’s scorching out today. I don’t see why—”

“You don’t have to see why, you just have to leave me alone."

"Alright, fine! But the guys'll be disappointed."

"Let them. Goodbye, Gwaine."

Merlin hung up and fought the urge to throw his mobile at the wall. Instead he just sighed, closed his eyes, and let his head fall back on the sofa. When he felt a dip in the cushion next to him, he opened them again.

"Hey," Arthur said. "Gwaine again?"

"Yeah."

"What'd he want?"

"Asked if we wanted to go swimming again today."

"It's nice out. Good day for it," Arthur remarked. He frowned. "But you don't want to?"

Merlin shrugged. "Not in the mood." Merlin leaned in and kissed under Arthur's jaw, running one hand up Arthur's thigh. "Why don't we take a cold shower to cool off instead?"

"That sounds nice." Arthur trailed his fingers down Merlin's arm and up his shirt, then turned his head to kiss him properly. 

They didn't make it to the shower. The clothes came off but then Merlin pushed Arthur back onto the bed and straddled him.

"Shower can wait," Merlin said, sucking Arthur's nipple and drawing out a moan. "We're not nearly dirty enough yet." He kissed his way down Arthur's stomach and finally took Arthur's cock in his mouth.

"Trust me, Merlin, with a mouth like that, you're absolutely filthy," Arthur sighed and thrust his hips up. Merlin hummed around the thick length and took even more of it down.

He didn't suck Arthur for long, just enough for his jaw to start aching and for Arthur to start breathing like an asthmatic. Then he hurriedly retrieved the lube, straddled Arthur once again, and with their combined fingers they worked Merlin open. Arthur rested his hands on Merlin's hips as Merlin lowered himself onto Arthur's cock.

"Fuck," Arthur exhaled. "Who needs swimming, we've got air conditioning and a nice tub right here. Come on, love, ride me, ride my cock."

Merlin anchored his hands on Arthur's shoulders and began to rock back and forth, rolling his hips in smooth motions. He started slow, moaning the occasional "Mmm, yeah Arthur, that's good, so good, _fuck_ " but soon increased his speed and the force with which he impaled himself on Arthur's dick. Rocking gave way to all out bouncing and Arthur's hands relocated to Merlin's back.

Arthur didn't have to pull Merlin closer. Merlin knew what Arthur wanted and leaned forward to give Arthur an open-mouthed kiss. As the intensity increased Arthur dug his fingernails into Merlin's skin and began to thrust his hips upwards, meeting Merlin in the middle so that Merlin felt Arthur deep inside him. Merlin's cock slapped Arthur's stomach between them and leaked precome on Arthur's sweaty skin.

Merlin knew when Arthur was about to come because Arthur dragged his fingernails down Merlin's back and he felt it as his old scars were reopened. The last spike of pain mixed with pleasure and Merlin came shortly after.

In the shower, Merlin tried to strategically keep himself behind Arthur, but Arthur caught on right away and spun Merlin around.

"What the hell, Merlin, it's like you don't want me to—Oh."

Arthur placed his hand on Merlin's back just below his rib-cage and reverently wiped the dripping blood away. Merlin's back was covered with long, skinny cuts, some faded but a few only minutes old.

"Is this why you won't go swimming?"

Merlin turned and raised his hand to cup Arthur's cheek and gave him a reassuring smile.

"It's fine. If it were Gwaine's lake house or a private pool, I'd go. But it's difficult to explain to anyone else..."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't want you to feel guilty. So what if I can't walk around shirtless?"

"Are you sure?”

“It’s just swimming, Arthur. I’m sure. Now turn around so I can wash this beautiful arse of yours.”

* * *

**2.**

**Inspired by:** [Sound #4](https://soundcloud.com/cheesymess/walking-on-gravel-soundbible) and [Sound #2- gravel](https://soundcloud.com/cheesymess/thunder)  
 **Pairing:** Arthur/Merlin  
 **Warnings:** small strains of homophobia as per the time period

Smells of a thunderstorm, Arthur thinks briefly as he ducks out of the carriage.

"My Lord," the butler intones from his place at the front of a line of servants, "may I present to you His Grace, the Duke of Albion."

But Gwaine's already taken three swift strides across the gravel drive and enveloped Arthur in a firm embrace. "Good to see you, Princess," he says into Arthur's ear.

Arthur grins. He already feels better.

\---

The first morning, Arthur wakes to the sound of his borrowed—and ridiculously named, honestly— valet tripping over something.

"Gwaine _would_ give me the clumsy one," he mumbles into his pillow, trusting Merlin at least has decorum and will refrain from—

"Don't be so quick to judge, Your Grace." Arthur grunts in disbelief and turns his head just enough to see Merlin's grinning face. "These hands, I've heard tell, have magic in them."

\---

At the first touch, the first brush of Merlin's fingers against his neck as he—expertly, indeed—ties Arthur's cravat, the lightning crashes into Arthur.

But, always mindful, he resists.

For nearly a fortnight, at least.

\---

"Merlin!" he shouts, rapping on their connecting door. "Get your lazy arse in here and draw my bath!"

There are scrambling noises, then the door opens, and Arthur finds his face scant inches from Merlin's. "I'm sorry, Your Grace," Merlin says, slightly out of breath. "I was told you wouldn't be needing me tonight." 

God must truly hate Arthur, truly, because he's a bit drunk and Merlin is flushed and in his nightclothes and _right bloody there_.

Arthur's been checkmated since two moves into the match.

\---

"Your Grace…" The hissed plea has a hint of command in it, and Arthur finds he rather likes it. "You— We mustn't."

"No," Arthur agrees as he tumbles them down onto the bed, then captures Merlin's lips again, rearranging clothes and learning new lines.

"Your Grace…" Merlin tries again, his voice catching as Arthur fits their hips together. Arthur makes a disapproving noise, nips at Merlin's neck as he starts up a delicious, rough slide. He feels Merlin swallow, then try again. "Pendragon…"

Arthur laughs into his skin. "Arthur, all right? For the love of God, man, I have a name and I'd expect you'd want to use it at a time like this."

Merlin's eyes flash. "I am your servant, Your Grace—"

Arthur stops him right quickly. "If you think that is the only reason I have you here in my bed—" He stops, because Merlin's expression makes it clear that that _is_ what Merlin believes.

"Oh, Merlin," he says quietly. "You have no idea, do you?"

Merlin's eyes narrow. "Of what?"

"Of the power you hold over me. Of how my life these past two weeks has been, for the first time since my father died, something more than simply palatable."

"Sir Gwaine—"

"Is not the first person I wish to see every more, nor the last person I wish to see every night." He strokes a thumb over Merlin's cheekbone. "So, Mr Emrys—" He registers Merlin's startled expression with pleasure. "It's Arthur, if you please."

Merlin hesitates. "But that's your Christian name. This is hardly Christian."

Arthur's jaw tightens, just for a moment. "Oh, I think God wouldn't have made us this way if not—" He lifts his hips, reaches down, and circles them both with his palm. "—for pleasure."

"For pleasure, yes, but— Arthur— Oh—"

They're both close, and mad with it. "But what?"

Merlin's hand covers his; shared breath runs hot between their lips. "Not for anything more."

"No, of course not," he agrees roughly, their hands moving quickly, desperately.

Merlin's voice, as he captures Arthur's lips fiercely, is barely a wrecked murmur. "Nothing more than this."

 _Which is everything_ , Arthur thinks with blinding clarity as his body climaxes.

\---

They fall into each other, a lumpy pile of man on an abused bed.

"Merlin," Arthur finally drawls quietly, happiness making him quite the cake.

"Yes, Your Grace?"

Arthur gathers him closer, slotting their legs together, feeling their hearts slow in tandem. "How would you feel about a change of employer?"

Merlin's head comes up, and Arthur waits as he searches out the sincerity in Arthur's visage. A slow smile spreads across his face when he finds it. "Depends on the pay, I expect."

Arthur guffaws outright, and then tumbles them once more into the sheets.

* * *

**3.**

**Inspired by:** [Sound #4](https://soundcloud.com/cheesymess/walking-on-gravel-soundbible) (and #2 somewhat)  
 **Pairing:** Elyan/Percival  
 **Warnings:** Brief references to canonical kidnapping

_Before Fyrien..._

Gravel crunched beneath Elyan's boots. The sound echoed across two small fields, bouncing off the dense forest encircling them. It carried all the way to a hut tucked up against the green edge of the trees. 

A warning sound, a homecoming sound.

Elyan feet hurt from standing all day at the forge, his back and shoulders from the rise and fall of the hammer, and there was soot on his skin that could barely be seen in the failing light. But he was home.

Thunderheads boiled across the sky as he picked his way down the path between the carefully tended fields and put his hand on the door. The first spatters of rain chased him inside.

The man inside looked up and smiled.

"Welcome home." Percival set aside the pan he was using to cook something that smelled like rabbit and came over to brush raindrops off Elyan's shoulders and plant a kiss on the corner of his mouth. "You're just in time for supper."

****

Rain poured off the eaves and lightning flashed through the cracks in the shutters. Elyan gasped into Percival's mouth, riding up and down with his thighs burning and Percy's hands on his hips, holding him at just the right angle so he saw stars every time his eyes slipped closed.

It was good, so good, Percy hard and thick inside him, hot to the very core of him. The words were on the tip of Elyan's tongue - _perfect_ and _more_ and _please let me stay_ \- but he couldn't push them out past his lips. Instead, he let the rising whine in his throat speak for him as his balls tightened. Outside, thunder rolled.

Percy spoke little during the day, but at night like this he never stopped. "So good for me, Elyan. So open." 

Elyan half sobbed as Percy's hands forced his hips to twist on a downward stroke - he loved it, and Percy always knew what he loved, even if he couldn't speak.

"That's it, so beautiful. Come for me, Elyan. Come on my cock."

With a high sound that was nearly a scream, Elyan did. Tightening down made Percival's cock feel even bigger, and Elyan's release made him feel light, like he'd float away without that anchor.

Later, they spooned on the bed, their legs tangled and Percival wrapped round Elyan, one hand tucked over Elyan's heart.

For all the time he'd spent running, Elyan felt safe here, in the hut with the impenetrable wall of forest around it and the gravel-strewn path to warn them if anyone approached.

****

In the end, they didn't take him from home, and they weren't who he was expecting. A king's men, but the wrong king. They grabbed Elyan from the market in the early morning light as he picked his way between stalls. They had a bag over his head before he could shout.

****

_After Fyrien..._

Elyan thought about sending a note, but Gwen would have to write it for him, and who could he pay to take it? Besides, it had been weeks by then. The little hut on the edge of the forest was probably getting on just fine without him. He had to build a place for himself here in Camelot, where they had no blacksmith. Had to rebuild the fires of his father's forge. The little hut had been a brief few months of happiness, and now it was over.

At night, he slept on the floor by Gwen's bed and knew he was a liar.

****

Rocks fell, miraculously cutting them off from the enemy. Elyan looked up and sucked in a sharp breath.

Above the ravine, larger than life and carrying a sword, was Percival. His face was unreadable.

****

In the abandoned hall of the kings, Percy leaned up his elbow and watched Elyan shiver. Wordlessly he lifted his blanket, and for all the questions on the tip of Elyan's tongue, he crawled over quickly, tucking his back against Percy's chest. Warmth seeped through him almost immediately, easing his tight muscles.

Percy slipped an arm around his waist. His breath ghosted over Elyan's ear. "Townspeople said you got taken."

"Yeah," Elyan rasped.

"I looked everywhere. How'd you get out?"

"Arthur and Merlin." _And Morgana,_ he didn't say.

Percy tightened his hold. "I'll fight for them. They fought for you."

"Yeah." Elyan put his hand over Percy's, where it pressed against his heart. Maybe it was time he fought a little harder for himself.

* * *

**4.**

**Inspired by:** [Sound #2](https://soundcloud.com/cheesymess/thunder) and [Gif #5](http://i.imgur.com/cM5FjDD.gif)  
 **Pairing:** Arthur/Merlin(?)  
 **Warnings:** None.

There were three things on this thunder-filled night for which Arthur was thankful: (1) house-sitting for Gwaine and Percival instead of being trapped in his own leaky-roofed home; (2) his hosts had the best porn collection this side of London _and_ he had orders to make the most of it; and (3) he hadn’t had a hard-on of this magnitude in months. 

Arthur sat at Gwaine’s desk, tipping the chair back with his foot. He slid his hand under the tight waistband of his denims to thumb his aching, weeping cock. Each stroke made him spasm but he held back, not wanting to come yet. The pressure, bordering this side of painful, was a poor substitute for being balls-deep inside some hot and willing guy, but he’d not been lucky on that score in way too long.

He was convinced Gwaine pitied him, hence the invite to house-sit.

The video zoomed in to focus on the thick cock slamming into the well-used hole of the dark-haired sub on his knees, come dripping down his thigh as he desperately tried to stay still for his master. Arthur’s moans matched the sub’s as he ‘fought’ against the invasion, his whimpers cascading down Arthur’s spine as he stroked himself. 

It happened all at once. Stretching back, Arthur pulled his cock out, his foot slipped, the chair fell backward and the house shook as lightening flashed and thunder boomed. As he hit the floor he thought he heard chimes, and then everything went black.

* * *

Arthur groaned. A cat meowed. Merry stabs of pain shot through his head. Someone yelled _oh fuck yes_.

Arthur forced his eyelids open and stared up into four of the bluest eyes he’d ever seen. He rubbed his eyes and looked again, this time realizing he must’ve seen double. Only one set looked down at him, and they belonged to a black-haired stranger. Embarrassment on being caught out shot through Arthur but the stranger just looked down at Arthur’s cock, half-out of his denims, come pooling on his belly, and smiled.

Fuck.

The stranger’s mouth twitched. “Who are you?”

Arthur knew he should lie but found himself saying, “Arthur.”

The stranger’s gaze fixed on his cock. “Need help, Arthur?”

“No kidding.” 

He started to get up but the stranger’s hand shot out, stopping him. “Let me.”

The stranger pulled the chair out of the way and straddled his thighs. Before Arthur could protest, his cock was freed and the stranger’s hot mouth had engulfed him.

All reason fled then as the stranger’s considerable skill forced all thoughts of protest from Arthur’s mind. The stranger hummed and purred against the cock head as he sucked on it, his nimble fingers deftly playing over the shaft like a flute. Other fingers forced themselves deeper beneath his denims, sharp nails scratching as they teased his balls, rolling them and pulling on them and invading Arthur as no one had ever done before.

 _Fuck_.

“Who... who are you.”

Thunder rumbled overhead, drowning whatever answer might’ve come. Arthur grasped the stranger’s head, holding it, forcing him to engulf Arthur’s entire shaft. He fucked the stranger’s mouth, spasming as teeth slid over sensitive skin, nails sank into his balls, his hole breached, making him buck. Arthur’s head still pounded but he didn’t care, pleasure winning over pain as the stranger skillfully sucked Arthur into release. 

Arthur squeezed his eyes shut and whimpered, writhing on the floor as his body spasmed one last time. The stranger pulled away, making Arthur cry out from abandonment.

_“My name is Merlin.”_

Lightning cracked. Lights flashed. Arthur gasped and covered his eyes. When he opened them again, he was alone.

* * *

_Three days later._

“So, how’d you enjoy the weekend?” Percival asked as he unloaded the back seat. 

“He means how’d you like the porn,” Gwaine yelled from the boot.

Arthur coughed. “I was kind of busy, actually.” 

Percival clapped him on the shoulder. “That was the idea, mate.”

“So which one did you get off to--” 

“Hush, Gwaine.” Percival grinned. “By the way, hope you found the cat. Forgot to tell you about him.”

Gwaine snorted. “Perc here wouldn't stop fretting, wanted to drive all the way to the nearest station to call you but I told him you’d figure it out if it showed up wailing for food.”

Arthur turned and stared at Percival. “Cat? What cat?”

“Just a stray I found,” Percival said, tossing him a backpack to carry inside. “I call him Merlin.”

* * *

**5.**

**Inspired by:**[Gif #5](http://i.imgur.com/cM5FjDD.gif)  
 **Pairing:** Gwaine/?  
 **Warnings:** unsafe sex

Gwaine growled deep in his throat. This wasn’t real, was it? The black-haired bloke in the seat across from him on the train was clearly fondling his massive dick through his jeans! Of course he could have gotten up and found a different seat, but hey, when you got a show like this, you just didn’t leave. 

He licked his lips as the man slid down in his seat and started caressing the length that was clearly hard. And those long delicate fingers sliding along it weren’t bad either. Gwaine’s eyes flickered up to the bloke’s face and were met with a gaze of the bluest set of eyes he’d ever seen.

Taking a deep breath, he shifted in his seat. Of course such a display had its effects on him. So he gave the bloke a shaky smile and pondered what to do next. In any club, he’d just sunk to his knees and gave the man a blowjob. But they weren’t in a club. They were on a train. A train through the night with hardly any passengers and the next stop about half an hour away. 

Without further thinking, Gwaine swallowed hard and sank to floor between the man’s knees. Carefully, he reached for the giant cock and stroked it through the fabric as the other’s hands fell away. He opened the button of the jeans and knew it wouldn’t be easy to get to the good stuff as the denim was so tight around the man’s body. But somehow he managed and a mixture of a sigh and a gasp escaped him. He’d never tried to suck a cock so large. But he would and he would do it well, if it was the last thing he was doing. 

As soon as he touched his lips against the hot skin, he felt those wonderful fingers in his hair, guiding him, playing with it and it sent shivers down his spine that he wasn’t just shoved against the prick. One last time, he licked his lips and then went to work. His jaw would ache for days, but he didn’t care, he needed to pleasure the hardness in front of him. So he opened wide and took in as much as he could, grabbing the rest of it firmly as he pulled back to tease the slit with the tip of his tongue. It was already leaking which turned Gwaine on even further. Slowly he found a rhythm and tried to relax his throat as much as he could, finding the right mixture of licking and sucking . 

The long fingers stroked through his hair and caressed that sensitive spot in the back of his neck and Gwaine would have smiled at the sounds coming from the man if his mouth hadn’t been so busy. The hot cock seemed to grow impossibly longer yet as it started to throb out its load. Gwaine tried to swallow all of it, but it was just too much and when he finally pulled back, panting hard, it slid down his chin. 

He didn’t sit back and wipe his mouth with the back of his hand and the bloke didn’t tuck himself back in a moment too soon.

“Tickets, please!” The conductor opened the door and looked at them. 

Gwaine fumbled his ticket out of the pocket of his jacket on the seat next to him while the bloke handed his to the conductor.

When the man was content and handed their tickets back and left, Gwaine started to chuckle. “You have the worst timing, Merlin.”

Merlin grinned widely and checked his watch. “The next station is about half an hour away. How about a second round?”

* * *

**6.**

**Inspired by:** [Sound #2](https://soundcloud.com/cheesymess/thunder)  
 **Pairing:** Merlin/Gwaine (with Arthur/Merlin in the background).  
 **Warnings:** -

The rain started pouring when he was halfway there. Merlin ducked inside a 24/7 and turned his head to the right. The Rising Sun could be seen from there, and his guts churned. He glanced up again, looked at the sky and caught the sight of a beam that crossed the sky, a thunder rumbling the second later. He shivered, but he wasn’t sure of why—too many things have happened, and staying still was making him sick.

He ran off in direction of the nearest building, then ducked again, trying—and failing—to avoid the drops that fell relentlessly from the sky. He then remembered Arthur’s face and felt his chest constrict. 

He ran.

.:.

It was still raining when he pushed the door open, big droplets of water running down from his hair to his body, trailing his thin silhouette and slipping through the neck of his shirt, the hem of his jeans. He ran a hand across the fringe of his hair and made his way to the counter, shivering again. 

Gwaine was there, as he’d said he’d be—Merlin found him before he reached the counter, sitting on a table by himself, nursing a beer. He felt his belly shrink and twist violently in the spare of a second, dizzy with anticipation and panic. He reached him and touched his shoulder softly, wetting his lips unconsciously when the man turned and beamed at him. He then saw the state Merlin was in and chided him. “Merlin, you shouldn’t go out in that state.”

But Merlin wasn’t interested in pleasantries. He wasn’t sure how to approach the subject either, and Gwaine must have seen that, because he pushed himself off the chair and took his hand.

“Are you sure about this?” he said, as he did later, and afterwards, and Merlin did the same thing he did all the times he asked—he nodded.

.:.

The room was dark and damp; it smelled of sweat and liquor, and something else Merlin couldn’t quite place. He let himself be manhandled by Gwaine, stripping off his clothes, exposing his neck for him to kiss, to lick, to _bite_ —arched his body to his, closing his eyes and letting those hands caress his body with adoration, with the things he yearn for and couldn’t have. 

He tried to push Arthur off his head, but with each touch, with each kiss, his chest tightened and he suppressed a whimper. He couldn’t help but imagine those hands as his, those lips as his, those arms and chest and thighs and cock—

Pain cracked his soul like the rays did the sky outside, but he ignored it.

Merlin forced himself to look at Gwaine, to watch the way he looked around his cock, to feel the man’s tongue lick at the tip and swallow him to the root. He forced Arthur out of his head, the way _he_ had looked right there; pretended he didn’t see Arthur’s innocence and eagerness shining through his eyes instead of the determination and lust in Gwaine’s. Let out a moan and then a whimper, though not because of the pleasure. 

Merlin pushed him off his cock and asked him to do _something_ , because Gwaine knew what he was doing, and Merlin needed direction.

His friend pushed him down the bed and tangled their legs together. He kissed the tip of his nose and Merlin _ached_ for Arthur again. He swallowed his tears and kissed Gwaine furiously, running his hands through his back and gripping at his arse. He kept going, desperate, sucking at his throat while he pressed his cock against his, rolling his hips frantically, moaning out charms and pleads and needs.

Gwaine grunted and gave in eventually, fucking him through the mattress while Merlin gave a strangled yelp and dug his nails at Gwaine’s back, pulling and pushing, in and out, until Arthur was just a shadow and a dream, and Gwaine was the only word Merlin knew.

He tightened his entrance on purpose, just to feel the tension, the pain and the intrusion. He ravished on it, focused on tightening and releasing, over and over, Gwaine cursing and shouting, hiding his face on the crook of Merlin’s neck and fucking as if it was the only thing he knew how to do. Merlin wailed, his body shaking uncontrollably, and came with shame washing over him.

The rain was still pouring outside, beams of light shining through the window, followed by thunders. Merlin stared, transfixed, and wondered if Arthur missed him at all.

* * *

**7.**

**Inspired by:** [Gif #2](http://i.imgur.com/injACeD.gif), [Gif](http://i.imgur.com/F8Vw5SJ.gif) [#3](http://i.imgur.com/SfiMqmh.gif), and [Gif #5](http://i.imgur.com/cM5FjDD.gif)  
 **Pairing:** Merlin/Arthur  
 **Warnings:** none

Merlin’s lazily palming his dick through his jeans. He has the flat to himself for whole afternoon and he plans to take full advantage of it. He looks at the photo calendar lying on the coffee table, his eyes roaming over the form of his stupidly gorgeous flatmate, over his face, the dirty smile, wide shoulders and lower over the muscles he’d like to kiss and taste. He groans and presses harder against his cock when his gaze slides towards the edge of the towel that is hanging obscenely low on Arthur’s hips.

Kicking off his jeans and briefs, he starts to fist his cock, setting a slow teasing rhythm. 

Since the release of the calendar, Arthur’s ‘Mr. July’ caused his significantly lower productivity. Merlin feels bad for being grateful there’s need for charity calendars, but he still beats off to Arthur’s photo at least twice a day. He’s planning to make it at least five times today.

 

+++

 

He’s fisting his cock as fast as he can, fingers of his other hand teasing around his opening. His hands are sticky with cum from the previous three rounds and it feels like he’ll never be able to reach the peak for the fourth time.

Thrusting into his fist, he pins his gaze to the photo again, gasping as he hunts his release.

That’s when the door opens and Arthur strides in. 

Merlin yelps and tries to snatch the calendar from the table, only making it fall face down to the floor. He covers his groin with a pillow and hides his face in his palms.

“Oookaaaay,” Arthur drawls.

He’s smirking like the prat he is. 

“I see you’re enjoying yourself. Good for you. I’m just going to grab my textbook and leave you to it.”

He heads towards his room, but then he pauses and heads towards the table instead.

“Well, well, Merlin… Didn’t you say you hadn’t bought it?”

Merlin moves quickly, trying to snag the calendar from the ground, but Arthur is faster. 

“So who’s the lucky boy? Gwaine? Lance? Or maybe Leon?”

Merlin feels panic rise in him.

“Don’t…” he squeaks.

Arthur turns the calendar and the smirk slips off his face. Merlin closes his eyes, swallowing around a lump in his throat. He’s not ready for Arthur’s rejection. He never will be.

The couch dips beside him, Arthur’s hand closing around one of his that are clenched on top of the pillows. 

“Merlin…” Arthur says softly.

Merlin shakes his head. He doesn’t want to hear it. Arthur pulls his hand away and shifts closer.

“How long?”

“Please, just let it go,” Merlin pleads, opening his eyes even when he knows they’re wet with unshed tears.

“You’re such an idiot,” Arthur says with a fond smile and leans closer, pressing his lips to Merlin’s in a chaste kiss. “I thought I couldn’t be more obvious with all the shirtlessness and sexual innuendos.”

“What?” 

Arthur rolls his eyes.

“I want to touch you, kiss you, fuck you, make you come so many times you won’t remember your own name.”

“I can’t be just your fuckbuddy.”

He’s completely open and vulnerable now. Arthur could ruin him with just a few words. 

“I want to woo you, date you, wake you up with morning kisses. I want to make sweet, sweet love to you,” Arthur murmurs and leans in for a proper kiss. 

“I think we’ll have to come back to those first steps later,” Arthur says, nosing along Merlin’s collarbone. “I really want to make that sweet love to you now.”

Merlin chuckles and lies down, rubbing the pillow over his renewed erection.

“Oh my god,” Arthur growls and strips to his briefs only. 

Climbing on top of Merlin, he starts grinding against the pillow, laying kisses over Merlin’s torso. 

“Just touch me already,” Merlin commands, pulling the pillow away and tossing it to the side.

Arthur traces the lines of dried come over Merlin’s belly.

“You came looking at the picture, haven’t you?”

Arthur’s presses their groins together. Rolling his hips, he creates the most delicious friction. 

“But you’re insatiable. Once wasn’t enough, was it?” Arthur whispers to his ear.

“Thrice.”

“What?”

“I came thrice. Thinking of you,” Merlin says, dragging his nails over Arthur’s sides.

“Shit, Merlin, fuck,” Arthur swears, his hips stuttering as he comes, damp spot forming on the front of his briefs.

Merlin thrusts up, rubbing himself over Arthur’s softening cock. 

“Make it four times,” Arthur groans into his ear and Merlin loses himself to his orgasm.

* * *

**8.**

**Inspired by:** [Image #2](http://i.imgur.com/TrLTbYH.jpg)  
 **Pairing:** Gwen/Morgana  
 **Warnings:** n/a

It's laundry day.

They've been working for half an hour, dancing and singing along to the The Black Keys album blasting from their shared iPod dock, when Morgana sets the iron down and crosses the room to dial down the volume.

"So... bondage," she says casually, as she returns to slaving over the ironing board. She bites her lip and tries not to grin, watching for Gwen's reaction out of the corner of her eye.

"Bondage," Gwen echoes. Her heart races, but she calmly finishes folding the t-shirt in her hands.

"What do you think about it?" Morgana sounds curious, so Gwen glances up.

"Honestly? I _don't_ think about it. Being tied up, tying someone up... it's not really my thing." She shrugs, smiling apologetically.

Morgana goes quiet. "I think it might be one of my things," she says finally, with a nervous laugh. "Lately I've had thoughts about tying you up."

Gwen's eyes widen slightly. "Like, you get off on it?"

Morgana nods, sheepish, but Gwen can't have that, so she goes to her.

"Babe, listen," she growls, gripping her arms and shaking them gently. "You wanting me so bad that you get off to me even when I'm not there is just--" She breaks off, grinning. " _really_ fucking hot, okay? Don't ever want you to stop telling me your fantasies--I wanna help you explore them, if I can. And I'm willing to give anything a chance. Even bondage."

"Oh my god,"Morgana laughs, tearing up--a fact that she'll fervently deny later. "You'd do that for me?"

Gwen rolls her eyes and kisses her soundly.

* * *

"Holy shit," Morgana groans, sitting back on her heels while taking in her handiwork. She's naked, one hand cupped over the mound between her legs. "You look perfect."

 _I **feel** awkward_ , Gwen thinks, as she kneels on the bed before Morgana. Being completely naked like this isn't new, but holding her arms up over her head with her wrists bound together and suspended from one of the ceiling beams _is_. "I could say the same about you," she says wryly, and means it. Gwen's often thought any painter would have a field day committing Morgana's classical beauty to canvas.

"But more importantly, dear, you're at my mercy." Morgana grins wickedly and tugs one of Gwen's fat, soft nipples until it hardens under her attentions.

Gwen cries out helplessly when Morgana engulfs the other breast, gazing down the length of her body at Morgana's bobbing head as she suckles eagerly. The sight has her hips arching up, seeking friction but finding none, because the rope around her hands keeps her from being able to move forward much. She has the sudden, instinctive urge to try thrashing to escape even though it's not possible.

When Morgana pulls off, her plump lips glisten with saliva and there's a matching gleam in her eyes. "Poor baby," Morgana coos, stroking the back of her hand down Gwen's cheek so that she shudders. "You've been so, so good, letting me try this. You deserve a reward, don't you? Yeah."

"A kiss?" Gwen whines. "Your lips..."

"Shhh... I know, I know. You'll have them, I promise. But first I've got something else for you, kitten, something better. It's real sweet, just like you--"

Morgana reaches behind her for something and Gwen twists around, trying to see, but it's futile, because her head is trapped between her suspended arms. 

"Open that pretty little mouth nice and wide now," Morgana coaxes. A chocolate-covered strawberry dangles from her fingers.

Gwen's mouth _does_ open, but not of her own accord; it falls open in surprise.

Morgana beams and nibbles at the strawberry, a look of contemplation furrowing her features. "Delicious in and of itself, but lacking the secret ingredient." She parts her legs, eyes hooded as she exposes the dark hair and flushed pink lips of her pussy. Steadily holding Gwen's gaze, she rubs the strawberry in a slow circle over her protruding clit and drags it down into the shadowed softness between her thighs that Gwen can't see, moaning breathily.

"Fuck! This is cruel!" Gwen bucks against her bonds so that the rope strains with her weight.

Morgana barks a laugh, clearly delighted. "I think it's ready for consumption now, darling," she says playfully, pushing the glistening, bitten berry past Gwen's lips.

Morgana's musk fills her mouth and nose, both familiar and overpowering, but sweeter by far than the chocolate melting away on her tongue and the flood of sugary juice when she finally sinks her teeth in.

* * *

**9.**

**Inspired by:** [Gif #5](http://i.imgur.com/cM5FjDD.gif)  
 **Pairing:** Merlin/Arthur  
 **Warnings:** bondage; orgasm denial

 

Merlin looks ethereal, dipped into a play of shadows from the light of the bedside lamp. It’s loving the study of angles that he is, the sharp V of his collarbones softened in a shadowed smudge, the clear-cut architecture of his broad shoulders and wiry upper arms wrapped in a darkened embrace, and the long, slim lines of his splayed legs are a sinuous invitation Arthur can’t take but is _straining_ to. 

Straining to, literally, straining against the rope that ties him to the four-poster bed behind him, in front of which he’s kneeling, prostrating himself before Merlin who’s sitting not two metres away from him in a chair, nonchalant, relaxed, the personification of the languidness Arthur can’t comprehend because he’s speaking another language: bound and fastened to the bed’s rods, knees forced apart, arms forced behind his back. His muscles tremble with the position and his skin burns underneath the ropes. The cock ring around the base of his penis makes him sweat and shake and flush all over. His groin is an agony of unrelieved tightness, his back straight and tensioned like a bow’s string. There’s not an ounce of control left: he’s at Merlin’s total mercy, to be punished or worshipped, and he _loves_ it.

“Are you impatient, Arthur?” Merlin’s lips curve into something slow and sly. Arthur wants to lap at their geometrical impossibility. “Feeling a little tense? Helpless?”

Arthur nods jerkily, yields the illusion of autonomy willingly to Merlin. 

“Mmmh, and look at how helpless you are,” Merlin murmurs, lids fluttering shut as his eyes slide over the canvas of surrender that is Arthur’s tormented body. “All flushed and tense for me. Do you know your mouth looks like blood, this way? When you bite your lips, make them all swollen and sore? So lovely, so pretty.” 

And like the puppet being played by the puppeteer, Arthur’s tongue slides over his raw-bitten lower lip when Merlin stares at his mouth, and he tastes the sweet copper of blood with the sting of pain. He laps over it repeatedly, greedy for something because he’s hungry and so empty.

“Poor love.” Merlin hums under his breath, the sound carrying straight over to Arthur’s cock, which twitches, the head flushed a dark purple, engorged, throbbing with pent-up blood. “Do you want some relief?”

The offer is a tease, Merlin trying to break down Arthur’s control entirely, knowing how Arthur needs it, wants it. Wants something to distract him from the torture of his cock, wants something in his mouth. He watches, single-minded, as Merlin’s large hand wanders down the flat of his bare chest and belly, stopping at his crotch. He swallows, hard, as Merlin’s fingers, long and thin, graze along the slope of his cock lying thick and long under the denim. 

“Like this, perhaps?” Merlin says, low, rough, leaves his crotch by pressing the heel of his palm against it a last time before returning to it, popping the button and dragging the zipper down—and, oh, _fuck_. 

He’s bare underneath.

“You’d need a hand, wouldn’t you?” Merlin continues his infernal teasing and draws out his cock from the denim, cupping his balls, letting them brush carefully against the teeth of the zipper. He spits into his palm and smooths his hand up his thin, long cock in a slow stroke. The curls of his pubic hair are dark against the pale of his skin. Arthur wants to draw it between his lips and suck, taste Merlin’s pre-come off it. “Touching you? Jerking you off?”

Arthur groans in the back of his throat, presses his body forward against the rope, body restricted with the fabric cutting into his skin. Still he leans forward, forward, staring at the lovely cock he wants, wants, wants.

“Say it,” Merlin hisses, the slick sounds of his steady jerking interrupted by his panting, laboured, heavy. “Beg me for it.”

When Arthur does, it’s not what Merlin expects.

“Your cock,” Arthur mumbles, feverish. “Want your cock. Please. Please.”

And Merlin shows him mercy for the first time that night—stands up on wobbly legs, jeans riding low on his thighs, peeled back like gift wrap revealing Arthur’s price, the beauty of his cock, which he feeds into Arthur’s waiting mouth—pushes into Arthur’s empty, aching throat, fucks his face fast and hard and rough like Arthur needs him to, wants him to, uses him like the cockslut he is.

* * *

**10.**

**Inspired by:** [Gif](http://i.imgur.com/F8Vw5SJ.gif) [#3](http://i.imgur.com/SfiMqmh.gif) and [Sound #1](https://soundcloud.com/cheesymess/phone-vibrating)  
 **Pairing:** Arthur/(Merlin)  
 **Warnings:** Wanna-be Briticisms (I’m sorry, I’m just a silly American and didn’t give time to research), underage in some places (characters are 16), masturbation

**I Get Off**

The room was dark and mostly quiet. The only sounds present were heavy breathing and the light _slap slap_ of a wet hand sliding of hard flesh. On the bed lay Arthur Penn, star player for the Avalon Secondary footie team. Arthur’s body was propped up in a mound of pillows, his school shirt lying open on his shoulders, trousers tossed somewhere in the vicinity of his closet, pants crumpled at his still sock-clad feet. His eyes were closed, head tipped forward to his chest. His arm was jerking up and down in a steady rhythm, one sure to bring him off, with a little twist of his wrist put in for good measure.

There were no porno mags, no movies, no dirty pictures even. Arthur didn't need any of those things; his imagination did just fine for him thanks. In fact, it was that very imagination that was providing the most tantalizing images right now. The same images that had brought this little wank session of his. 

It had started in the locker room after practice. Being on the team for close to three years now, Arthur was used to seeing his teammates stripped down and wet from the showers. He was even man enough to admit he’d taken a peek or two, and not only for comparisons sake either. He knew that Lance had a quite fetching mole on his left arse cheek, that Percy had one of the biggest cocks he’d ever seen, and that Leon was in fact a natural blond. He also knew that Gwaine shaved his pubes, but then again everyone knew that since he made no secret of it.

No, all of that, Arthur was used to. Walking in and out of the showers was old hat by now, flicking towels at each other and dressing and undressing; it was no biggie. At least until the new guy showed up. Merlin Ambrose had just transferred in from Ealdor, this tiny blip of a town about four hours away. None one had ever really heard of it, much less known that it had a footie team.

But somehow, this country bumpkin of a boy walks in and nabs a spot on Avalon’s varsity team. Arthur had been grudgingly impressed, though that may have had more to do with the fact that Merlin had a mouth made for sucking. Even more points to the boy, was when he came into the showers with the rest of the team after practice and started shedding his clothes without hesitation. And then that pale, lithe body was stepping into the cascade of water and long fingers started to rub across – 

Arthur’s eyes snapped open, fantasy broken, at the insistent buzzing noise from his phone. Fuck, who the hell would be calling this time of night? Arthur fumbled for his phone, hand still curled around his leaking dick. He picked up the cell and glanced at the caller ID. Immediately, his stomach dropped even as his traitorous dick gave a little—okay, not so little—twitch. Merlin. With a thick swallow, he pressed the answer key.

“Yes?”

“Hey, Arthur. Listen I know it’s late, but I really wanted to check with you about the extra practice.”

That was right, Coach Garrath had wanted him to do a few extra practice sessions with Merlin, just to get him up to speed with Avalon’s team dynamic. Arthur stifled a sigh and rubbed his thumb over the head of his dick. “Right. What about it?”

Merlin’s voice was sheepish as he spoke. “Well, here’s the thing. I’m at Avalon on scholarship, and my mum really can’t afford for me to lose it, so –” 

Merlin’s words started to wash over him, the nervous lilt in his voice making something deep in his gut clench with need. Arthur’s hand started up again, slow and tight. He fought to keep his breath steady.

Arthur let out a deep breath, his body relaxing into his pillow pile. For a moment he’d forgotten he was actually one the phone with someone, but a slightly awed voice slammed him out of his post-orgasm high.

“Did you just –”

“Yes, I think we can work out a schedule that will work out for you. We can go over it Monday at school, alright? Alright, I’ll see you then.” Without waiting to hear a reply amongst the squawking over the line, Arthur ended the call and slumped back, thumping his head on the headboard. He was so screwed.

* * *

**11.**

**Inspired by:** [Gif](http://i.imgur.com/F8Vw5SJ.gif) [#3](http://i.imgur.com/SfiMqmh.gif) and [Sound #1 - phone vibrating](https://soundcloud.com/cheesymess/phone-vibrating)

 **Pairing:** Gwen solo

 **Warnings:** None

 

Gwen had never owned a vibrator. It wasn’t that she was against them, as such, but she didn’t have the money, much less the time. It had never occurred to her that she might enjoy one, and to be honest she privately kind of thought that people who spent a lot of time masturbating had far too much time on their hands.

Gwen did not have time on her hands. She was busy all day during the week at her apprenticeship to a blacksmith – she couldn’t afford to go to university, but couldn’t get a decent job without qualifications. She was then busy at weekends and most evenings at her job at a café – it was minimum wage and thankless, but she had bills to pay and wouldn’t have been able to afford to eat without it. Whenever she wasn’t at work or training, she would be catching minimal sleep or trying to make cheap food taste interesting. She didn’t have time for sex with other people, let alone sex with herself.

Gwen’s friends all knew that she wasn’t exactly well off, but it was never an issue. In fact, the only time they ever noticed it was when she took out her phone – a little old brick of a Nokia 3310. They occasionally made fun but hey, it did all she needed it to and was, let’s face it, pretty damn indestructible.

The first time had been an accident. She’d been holding other things and had tucked her phone in between her legs so that she wouldn’t drop it anywhere. Morgana had rung her, and she’d nearly dropped everything else she was holding when the thrill jolted up her legs and towards her groin. She couldn’t help it, it felt – it felt good.

She soon forgot about it as she spoke to Morgana, trying to soothe her latest man crisis. But she found herself doing it more often – leaving her phone between her legs or on her lap, increasingly close to her crotch and hoping that someone would ring. They didn’t ring often, but oh god, the shiver down her spine when they did was more than worth it.

The first Saturday evening she’d had off work in a long time, she found herself sitting in bed in just her underwear, unable to concentrate on her book and with her phone jammed firmly against the barrier of her pants. A single text was enough to set her off.

Before she knew what she was doing, she’d run to fetch the house phone from the living room and was settling back in bed, shimmying out of her knickers.

With trembling fingers she dialled her own mobile number, waiting until the sturdy little thing started vibrating in short, two second long bursts. She placed the mobile on her thigh to start, dragging it slowly up towards her crotch. By the time it touched her pussy – the vibrations almost feeling violent against the sensitive flesh – she was shuddering with the feel of it, her eyes half closed. She moved it around, experimenting with what felt best, until she found a spot that made her moan out loud. She kept the phone there, bucking each time it vibrated on the little nub of nerves.

The mobile stopped vibrating as the call went to voicemail. Gwen cursed loudly. She re-dialled the number, then abandoned the house phone on the bed as her mobile started vibrating against her cunt again. She dropped her now-free hand to feel herself – she was a lot wetter than she’d expected, but damn it felt good.

She traced her pussy with two fingers, shivering as her nails scratched lightly along the lips. She pressed one finger tentatively inside, then two. The angle of her hand pressed her mobile harder against her clit and the vibrations pushed her over the edge – convulsing, vision obscured by stars, legs tingling. She breathed heavily as she struggled to come back to herself.

Calmly, she hung up the phone, pulled her pants up and grabbed her book.

Maybe a vibrator wasn’t that bad of an idea.

* * *

**12.**

**Inspired by:** [Sound #4](https://soundcloud.com/cheesymess/walking-on-gravel-soundbible), [Gif #2](http://i.imgur.com/injACeD.gif)  
 **Pairing:** Merlin/Arthur  
 **Warnings:** barebacking, light scratching

They’d been running for a long time now.

How long, he wasn’t entirely sure. It could have been mere months, but sometimes it felt like years. It was hard to keep track.

They were far from civilisation now, having stolen an inflatable dinghy of all things. But it wouldn’t make much difference, he knew. No matter where they went, no matter how _far_ they went, someone was always chasing them.

He didn’t know how long the peace would last before someone found them again. He wasn’t sure how much longer they’d be able to keep running before they ran out of energy.

Before they ran out of luck.

The gravel crunched under Arthur’s feet, rocks biting into his flesh, though he paid them no mind. It was a shitty beach, to go along with an equally shitty day—gloomy, the sun covered by heavy clouds; smelled like rain, he thought.

He waded into the water, making his way over to the boat they had tied up, ignoring the way the cold washed over his legs. They’d given up on clothes; too much of a hassle to take care of, and it wasn’t like anyone was around to judge them.

Merlin was sleeping peacefully in the boat, the gentle rock of it having lulled him into the land of dreams, though his eyes blinked open slowly as Arthur hoisted himself up into the craft.

“Mm, hey,” Merlin greeted him with a yawn, stretching as Arthur settled across from him, tangling their legs together. Merlin’s nose wrinkled. “Your legs are wet.”

Arthur snorted. “Hello to you too. We can’t all _fly_ across the water, I’m sorry to say.”

“I do not fly,” Merlin argued. “That would be ridiculous.”

His eyes glowed gold as he spoke, and Arthur smiled as he found that his legs were dry again.

Merlin’s magic was the entire reason behind the situation they were in, but Arthur didn’t blame him; it had been his father who had forced Arthur’s hand.

It had been his father who had told the government about Merlin’s existence.

That Arthur would choose Merlin over his father hadn’t even been a question, though before meeting Merlin Arthur hadn’t thought he would ever come to that point in life. He hadn’t even been sure he’d ever be able to.

He wouldn’t change it now for the world.

As the gold faded from Merlin’s eyes, Arthur leaned forward, placing his hand gently on Merlin’s upper thigh suggestively.

Merlin laughed softly. “Pervert.”

Arthur shrugged. “What can I say? I find you doing magic incredibly sexy.”

Merlin rolled his eyes, but he still allowed his legs to fall open, and Arthur took that as the invitation it was, crawling forward until he was sitting in between Merlin’s legs.

“I’m still loose from last night,” Merlin confided quietly, and Arthur groaned, hand going to his cock so he wouldn’t go off immediately.

“Come here, then,” he said, pulling Merlin toward him, and Merlin clambered into Arthur’s lap clumsily, all elbows and knees and somehow still incredibly beautiful.

Arthur guided himself towards Merlin’s entrance, and Merlin threw his head back with a load moan as he was penetrated, hands clutching at Arthur’s shoulders as he sunk down slowly onto his lover’s cock.

Merlin paused once he was fully seated, allowing himself to adjust, and it was all Arthur could do not to thrust up into the willing body above him.

Thankfully though, Merlin didn’t need long; in no time at all he was lifting himself up and sinking back down, but Arthur still waited for Merlin’s nod before he rocked his own hips upwards, his eyes rolling back into his head as Merlin met him thrust for thrust.

They weren’t particularly fast or slow with their coupling, simply going with the flow of it, but when Arthur dragged his fingers down Merlin’s back, digging into the skin gently, Merlin let out a throaty gasp, fucking down on Arthur’s cock just that little bit harder.

Arthur laughed, the sound shaky. “You like that, do you?” he stuttered. Merlin answered him with a moan.

They came together, shuddering from their respective orgasms as Merlin slumped against Arthur, both of them unwilling to part from where they were currently connected.

“I love you,” Merlin said quietly into his ear.

“I’ll always be with you,” Arthur told him.

Maybe they would be on the run again eventually, but for now he was going to embrace their freedom while it lasted.

* * *

**13.**

**Inspired by:** [Image #3](http://i.imgur.com/XFkVoo4.jpg)  
 **Pairing:** Arthur/Merlin  
 **Warnings:** Tutor/Pupil relationship, underage, possible dubcon?

The thing is: Merlin is a spoiled brat. He lives in the lap of luxury and has never been told what to do. Arthur, too, is a child of money but of a different sort. Merlin’s mother coddles him, allows him free reign and no rules, while Arthur grew up with nothing but rules. It angers him to see Merlin act so childish, to throw temper tantrums when he doesn’t get his way.

Like now; papers are everywhere, some still drifting in the air and others scattered across the ground. Merlin is in their midst, arms crossed petulantly as he glowers at Arthur and all because he was getting frustrated over a problem. He’s beautiful in his anger but Arthur can’t let him get away with this.

Very calmly, he says, “take off your clothes, Merlin.”

The fall of Merlin’s shoulders is so slight that Arthur would never have seen it if he hadn’t been looking for it. He sees, though, because he needs to see; he needs to know that Merlin still needs this like Arthur thinks he does. They stare at each other for a few seconds as Merlin decides whether he wants to obey or push just a little more.

Arthur sees the moment that the decision is made and it’s beautiful, really, the way Merlin lowers his eyes as he begins to undress. His boy is breathtaking when he’s obedient.

When he’s bare, he just stands there, hands at his sides, as Arthur looks his fill. Merlin is still so young, growing into his long limbs and his ridiculous ears, but to Arthur he’s beautiful. 

Stepping close, he puts a hand around the back of Merlin’s neck and faces him toward the couch, pushing until Merlin obediently leans over it. His ass is on display for Arthur, pale and unblemished and Arthur can’t wait to change that.

The first smack seems supernaturally loud in the silence. Merlin makes a noise in the back of his throat, body jerking forward. Arthur doesn’t wait for him to adjust before he lands the second blow. He spanks Merlin, again and again, drawing out noise after delicious noise.

By the time he’s done, Arthur’s aching in his slacks and Merlin is breathing hard, his body trembling, his own cock hard between his legs. He loves what Arthur does to him.

The thought makes Arthur groan and he unbuckles his belt, shoving his pants down just enough to free his cock. “On your knees, Merlin,” he orders, curling a fist around himself.

Merlin all but collapses to the ground and then turns to face Arthur; he whines at the sight of Arthur’s cock, leaning forward to take it into his mouth but Arthur fists a hand in his arm, keeping him back.

“No,” he says, jacking himself. “You were bad, Merlin.”

Merlin looks broken as he watches Arthur pleasure himself, like this punishment is worse than the spanking he just received. He’s gorgeous like this, horny and desperate but still letting Arthur control him.

When he’s close, Arthur growls, “beg for it.”

Merlin doesn’t disappoint.

“Please.” He pulls against Arthur’s grip on his hair, mouth falling open; so desperate for it, for Arthur’s cock in his mouth, it’s fucking beautiful. “Please, Mr. Pendragon.”

Arthur groans, hips jerking as he comes. Below him, Merlin whines, and when he looks down, Arthur’s cock gives an aborted twitch in his loosened fist. His boy is covered in come from mouth to the nape of his neck and it’s obscene but Merlin, his beautiful Merlin, looks completely blissed out from it; his eyes closed and the corners of his mouth twitched up in a smile. 

He looks completely boneless, probably held up by nothing more than Arthur’s fist in his hair, despite the erection that still stands thick and proud between his legs. 

When Arthur’s regained his breath, he asks, “Are you ready to be a good boy now, Merlin?”

Merlin’s eyes flutter open and he looks up at Arthur with a worshipful expression that makes Arthur’s heart skip a beat.

“Yes, Mr. Pendragon,” he answers. “Thank you, Mr. Pendragon.”

* * *

**14.**

**Inspired by:** [Gif #2](http://i.imgur.com/injACeD.gif)  
 **Pairing:** Merlin/Arthur  
 **Warnings:** None

The heat is heavy in the air and it clings to their skin, making sweat bead in the dip of Arthur's spine, collect in the pool of Merlin's clavicle. 

"It's fucking hot here," Arthur complains, even as he grinds his hips down lazily into Merlin's, the heat making them listless, reluctant to try anything more exerting. The room reeks of sex, sweat-tangy and suffocating.

"Global warming," Merlin reminds him with a smirk, meeting Arthur's thrusts with a twist of his hips. "Also, you're the one who wanted to 'see the world' in the middle of August. Don't blame me."

Arthur doesn't respond to the jibe, just leans down into Merlin's space and nips at Merlin's lips, tracing Merlin's smirk with the wet heat of his tongue. Merlin opens his mouth to Arthur, reaches out, twists his fingers in the silky, sweat-damp hair at the nape of Arthur's neck, keeping him in place. They kiss lazily, languidly, both half hard but content to just rock slowly together, the dull thrum of pleasure humming through them both, as sluggish and ever-present as the heat. 

"You could have warned me," Arthur grumbles when they break apart for air, breath sticky on each other's skin. 

Merlin sighs, or maybe laughs, but it's swallowed almost immediately by the already-saturated air. "Find out on your own," he says, a half-thought, something he's said before and will definitely have to say again. He kisses Arthur, though, just because he can. 

"Let me up," he says after another moment, nudging at Arthur's shoulder, and Arthur deftly flips them, keeping his hands on Merlin's waist, never letting him go. Merlin settles on top of him, Arthur's cock nestled in the cleft of his ass, the air actually cool on his back after so long pressed into the sheets. He drinks in the sight of Arthur in front of him, the feel of Arthur beneath him, revels in the fact that he is _here_ , and can't believe that he has survived this long without him. 

_"Arthur,"_ he says, almost unbidden, and it's more desperate than he meant, conveying something he's never even tried to put into words. He doesn't miss the way Arthur's eyes darken at his tone, the sudden snap of Arthur's hips, the way his own body responds in turn. 

He shifts purposefully on top of Arthur, dragging his ass slowly up and down the length of Arthur's cock, and Arthur has to bite his lip to stop from moaning, breath catching in Merlin's throat at the sight. 

"Fuck," Merlin groans, as Arthur grasps at the sheets, at Merlin's thighs, at empty air. "No, touch me," he tells Arthur, and Arthur is quick to obey. He reaches for him, presses his fingers into Merlin's skin, nails leaving white half moons in their wake, marking, claiming, _possessing_ Merlin in a way no one ever has, ever will again, and Merlin's back arches like a cat, body straining ever closer to the already suffocating warmth of Arthur's skin, Arthur's touch. 

His hands skate down Merlin's ribs, his fingers catching on each one, and Merlin is skinny—still too skinny—and Arthur can feel the bones under Merlin's skin, the stubborn strength of them, the fossils of Merlin's shape after decades (centuries, _millennia_ ) of existing, of going on, _alone_ —

"Merlin," he rasps into the space between them, so far from empty, heavy with the heat and the staccato rhythm of their breath, with the weight of their distance—not physical, _never_ physical, not anymore, Arthur thinks—and Merlin gasps, "Yes, yes, _Arthur—"_ and their time apart unravels in front of him, unspools in the space between them; and he digs his fingers into Merlin's hips, pulls Merlin down, drags him closer.

Merlin goes with it, pliant in Arthur's hands, and he crashes into Arthur's chest as Arthur surges up to meet him, cock trapped between their bodies, heat and need smothering them both. Arthur's hands are impossibly big pressed into the delicate curve of Merlin's spine, and Merlin comes untouched, just like that, suppressing his shout in the sweaty dip of Arthur's shoulder, teeth dragging on his skin, burning hotter than fire.

* * *

**15.**

Inspired by: [Sound #1](https://soundcloud.com/cheesymess/phone-vibrating)  
Pairing: Arthur/Elena  
Warning(s): N/A

“You know,” Elena muses, “I think most exes have less sex than we do.”

Arthur hums into her breast, licking neatly around the curve. “Do they?” he asks when he lifts his head. “What do they do instead?”

She flaps a hand and almost smacks him in the face. “Who cares? This is more fun.” She shifts her hips against his pointedly. “Or it would be if you would hurry up. Out of curiosity, do you ever plan to fuck me?”

“I’m taking my time.” He gives her a wounded look. “This is why we broke up, you know. The backseat fucking.”

This time, she smacks him on purpose. “It’s not backseat fucking, it is _feedback_.” Arthur smirks at her and slips a finger past the cloth of her panties and inside, where she’s been wet for ages. “And we broke up because our dads don’t run our—fuck.”

“Soon,” he promises, crooking his finger until Elena lets out a whine and digs her heel into his back.

“Come _on_.”

Arthur laughs and nods, which means he’s finally ready to stop being a dreadful tease and _fuck her already_ like she’s been wanting all day—and his mobile starts vibrating on the nightstand. He looks over, biting his lip.

“Oh, no way, whoever it is can wait, now you are going to fuck me.” It keeps vibrating, and he gives her a sheepish look before grabbing it. Elena lets out a frustrated scream. “I am going to kill you, and it will be painful—”

“Look, it’s Mithian,” he says, smile going wicked, and she freezes. “What do you say, shall I pick up, tell her you say hello?”

Elena grabs for the phone, not willing to take the chance that he’s in a torturing mood. “I will _murder you_ ,” she promises, and Arthur relents—or she thinks he does, until he puts the phone, still vibrating, over her panties, and she lets out a breathless noise. “Fuck.”

“It’s almost like she’s the one getting you off, like this. Should I answer, put her on speaker and fuck you while you have to be very quiet so she doesn’t hear?” The thought is enough to have her arching half off the bed, suddenly so close to coming that she almost goes over the edge out of surprise before the phone stops vibrating, call ended. Arthur watches her with a smile and then puts his phone away. “You liked that?”

“I’m never speaking to you again,” she says faintly. “How would you feel if that had been Merlin?”

“Hey.” He moves until he can meet her eyes properly, hands on either side of her head. “I’m a bastard, I’m sorry. For what it’s worth, she was probably calling to ask about you.”

She pulls him down to kiss him. It’s familiar, nice as always, and he lets out a relieved sigh into her mouth before she pulls away. “You’re awfully willing to lose your outlet for regular sex. Speaking of which …”

Arthur laughs and lets her change the subject. “Fine. You’re so impatient.” He slides her panties off without any fuss, though, and Elena helps him by kicking them off when they get to her feet. He always keeps a condom under his pillow, and she grabs it and then urges him to hurry the fuck up.

Seconds later, he’s sliding inside while she clutches at his sides to encourage him until he’s seated all the way. She wriggles a little to watch the way he gasps and pulls him down to kiss her again, as sweet and nearly-chaste as they were at eighteen and trying to be in love. When he fucks her, though, it’s deep and hard and everything she needs. She wraps herself around him as well as she can and takes it, everything what she’s been wanting.

Arthur is a gentleman even though he’s a pillock. He watches her eyes the whole time he’s inside her and hits her sweet spot every thrust until he brings her off, clenching around him. He fucks her until she’s squirming again before he comes, gasping into her mouth and thrusting deep. They’re both still breathing hard when he pulls out to take care of the condom, leaving her to finger herself while he settles in to watch.

“You’re the best friend I could ask for,” she says. He smiles, kisses her on the forehead, and reaches out to help her through her second orgasm.

* * *

**16.**

**Inspired by:** [Sound #2](https://soundcloud.com/cheesymess/thunder)  
 **Pairing:** Merlin/Gwen  
 **Warnings:** n/a

The streets of Camelot were empty by order of King Arthur during the crippling heatwave. The knights took turns patrolling the streets, but nobody stirred from the stifling heat of their homes into the dangerous heat of the streets.

Except the Queen and her wizard, who carried water to the old and the young and anybody who wasn’t able-bodied enough to fetch it, sweat stinging their eyes and soaking their clothes. They walked alone, leaving her regular entourage in the protection of the castle's shadows. Merlin kept cold water gushing into the buckets as they moved from house to house where they were greeted with low bows and dry rasps of gratitude. So many of them remembered hot snaps and droughts when nobody came to their doors with a single drop. 

The harsh sunlight followed them throughout the lower town until long after their sparse supper of herbs and bread. It was late when Gwen stopped, setting down her empty bucket. “Do you hear that? Listen.” 

He did. The sound of their salvation. A distant growl building into a low rumble, louder and closer by the second. Purple lightning danced around the red sun, streaking the sky like a turbulent infection. Thunder boomed with each flash, vibrating through the ground and into Merlin’s tingling fingers, where his magic crackled and sparked, brought to life by the change in the air. 

They raced each other to the queen’s chambers, revitalized by the scent of rain, the promise of relief. They arrived in time to witness the sky explode across the kingdom as the wind snapped through the open windows, carrying a sharp, charred odor with it. Fires erupted, dancing for a handful of glorious seconds before the curtains of rain forced them back to the earth. 

“What’s going on Merlin?” 

Merlin held his hands out, studying the peculiar light dancing from fingertip to fingertip. 

“Does it hurt?” 

Merlin held his hands out to her. Gwen hesitated the span of a breath before her fingers glided over his palms, gathering the dancing sparks onto her skin. She held her hand up, casting her face in red light in the instant before the light disappeared. Smiling, she reached for Merlin again, this time touching his cheek. Sparks tumbled down to the floor, glowed brightly, and snuffed out. The torrent continued outside, faster and louder, drowning the sounds of his heart beating, the smell of fire, scrubbing the world clean. 

“Beautiful,” she murmured, her nails skimming over his lips. He caught her wrist, holding her in place as he kissed the pad of each finger. Their eyes met over the caress, small bolts of lightning crackling between them. Gwen’s other hand went to Merlin’s shoulder, slid down his arm to twine their fingers together. It was so easy to move their bodies together, shuffle closer until their mouths touched without touching, flecks of magic jumping from skin to skin, creating a closed circuit that drew them tighter and tighter. 

That was how the king found them, outlined against the sun’s dying rays and wild lightning, bright beacons against the falling blue clouds. Merlin twitched at the touch of Arthur’s palm, his magic responding with a surge that shook all three of them. Gwen tilted her head up, waiting for the pressure of her king’s mouth, but he didn’t respond to the invitation. 

“This is what we’ve been waiting for,” Arthur murmured.

And then Merlin felt the strawberry sweetness of her mouth on his. They both gasped into the kiss as the floor shook and thunder erupted directly over them, from them, between them and above them. Merlin buried his hand in her hair and dipped his tongue into her mouth, licking at her lips and tongue like they were coated in honey. Arthur’s heavy hand on his back kept him grounded as magic rolled off him in waves, entwining his Sun and his Moon closer to him. Arthur’s stubble brushed against his jaw, and he turned to savor the heat of his lips. 

The thunder echoed around them, but it was only the sound of Merlin’s heart. The earth absorbed the rain, but it was only his flesh drinking in their essence. Lightning painted the sky--his magic reaching for its true home.

* * *

**17.**

**Inspired by:** [Sound #3](https://soundcloud.com/cheesymess/stag)  
 **Pairing:** Merlin/Arthur  
 **Warnings:** hard dub-con/non-con

He shouldn’t be participating in this stupid race anyway.

The soldiers had come to Ealdor and lined up all the sixteen and seventeen year olds, and when one of their leaders got to Merlin in the line, he had jerked a thumb backwards and said, “You can go home.”

But another man, tall and wearing the red cape of a knight, said, “Wait.”

He’d walked up to Merlin and lifted his chin with gloved fingers, saying, “He’s beautiful.”

The other man laughed and said, “You can’t be serious, Leon. He’s scrawny and bony, and look at those ears!”

But the knight repeated, “He’s beautiful. I know what the prince likes.”

*****

So Merlin found himself in a line with thirty other young people, most of them beautiful girls, the others comely youths.

He was barefoot and wearing nothing but a thin pair of linen trousers, and before the race he’d been bathed and anointed with sweet-smelling oils. His handlers discouraged questions, but they told him enough to know that all the young virgins would be chased through the forest by The Stag King, who would choose one of them to lie with. The chosen one would become his consort.

It was an initiation ritual for Prince Arthur’s coming-of-age, and the prince would be in an altered state, becoming half-man, half-animal. They told him the prince’s trance state came from meditation and fasting.

He knew better. Those things would be a good start, but Merlin knew enough herb lore to suspect the prince would be high on medicinal mushrooms. 

They’d done one other thing to prepare him for the race. They’d bent him over a table and slicked up his rectum with grease, inserting a small plug to keep the slickness inside.

It was uncomfortable, and Merlin wondered how he was supposed to outrun the stag barefoot and with a two inch piece of wood up his arse. But he consoled himself with the thought that, drugged or not, the prince would not be pursuing him. The other participants were all far more attractive than he was.

Merlin ran like the wind when the flag dropped. He didn’t particularly want to get fucked by some prince he didn’t know, and he had his own reasons for wanting to leave Camelot as soon as he could. It would be dangerous for him to stay in a place where magic users were punished by death. 

He’d been born with magic, and he liked his head where it was, thank you very much.

His plan was to run far enough into the forest to conceal himself in the roots of a fallen tree, or to find a small cave. Just because some high and mighty prince wanted to chase a prey, didn’t mean he had to go along with it.

But as he ran, he realized that he was feeling somewhat woozy and confused himself. Those bastards drugged me, too, he thought.

And then he heard it, the baying of the stags. The sound was primal and thrilling, and in spite of his plan to opt out of the chase, he found himself running, half-terrified and half-aroused.

He ran and ran, branches slapping his face, and the sound of pursuit getting closer by the minute. He made the mistake of looking back, and that made him trip over a root.

He was cursing his clumsiness when the Stag King landed on him, pinning Merlin to the ground with his weight. They were face to face for a moment, and Merlin saw a beautiful and terrifying figure, with antlers attached to his head and his face painted in stripes of gold and red. The Stag King’s eyes were bright and intoxicated, and Merlin knew that he had been chosen.

Then he was flipped over, and the stag was rutting against him. Merlin gasped at the hardness rubbing against the crack of his ass, and then his trousers were torn off him, the plug was being pulled out, and he was getting fucked.

The man above him grunted and pawed at him like an animal, and his big prick felt like it was going to split Merlin in two.

But then the Stag King pulled him back onto his lap, and stroked his cock with a callused hand in rhythm with the fierce strokes in and out. 

Merlin came just before his partner did, and they fell to the forest floor, still joined.

The last thing he heard before he blacked out was the prince growling, “Mine.”

* * *

**18.**

**Inspired by:**[Gif #2](http://i.imgur.com/injACeD.gif)  
 **Pairing:** Merlin/Unidentified male  
 **Warnings:** No warnings apply

His fingers ran down the length of Merlin’s ribs. His metal ring bumping over each bone. 

“You’re too thin.”

“I’m not,” Merlin panted out as he rocked their hips together. 

“I should be feeding you rather than fucking you.”

Merlin ground down deliberately, hard, rough, into the body beneath him and then whispered in his partner’s ear. “You can make me a bacon sandwich after you fuck me.”

He laughed and reached down to grip Merlin’s backside tightly, stopping Merlin’s movements. Merlin tensed as the fingers slid firm between his cheeks. The tip of his forefinger slid roughly against Merlin’s entrance. Merlin arched into the touch. He pulled his fingers away and Merlin let out a displeased, breathy moan. He gripped Merlin’s backside and flipped them. 

“Don’t you want me on my knees?” Merlin asked shifting under him, making them both groan. 

“I want you every fucking way,” he rasped into Merlin’s ear before he manhandled Merlin over and onto his knees. “I want you on your knees, your arse open, on display so I don’t even have to spread you cheeks to lick your hole.” 

He grabbed Merlin’s calves and pushed his knees forward until they were tucked under Merlin and his arse was spread wide. “I want you on your knees with your mouth straining around my cock.”

He rocked his cock along the soft skin behind Merlin’s balls, up over his hole and back down. “I want to feel your throat fluttering around the head of my cock as my precum is coating your tonsils.”

He pulled back and dropped down until he could see Merlin’s hole. Tight and pink and puckered – just waiting for him. He bent his neck and lapped at Merlin’s entrance making the thin man in front of him gasp. The skin against his tongue clenched hard and then relaxed. Overlaying the taste of Merlin was the tart taste of his own cock. He pulled back from Merlin. “I want to come on your face and your cheekbones. I want to paint your collarbones with my come. I want to trail it over your nipples and suck it out of your belly button. I want to suck your cock when it is coated in my spunk and I want to watch it leak out of your hole after I’ve fucked it into you.”

“Fuck,” Merlin grunted out and tried to rock his cock against something. “Please…”

He flicked open the lube and coated his finger, making sure the ring was coated as well. He pressed it in slowly; watching as it rocked in and out of Merlin’s tight little hole until all that was left outside was his ring. It was startlingly silver against Merlin’s hole and without pause he pushed until it was just inside, straining the circle of muscles. Merlin let out a moan and pushed back into him. “I want to be so deep inside of you that you can still feel where I was the next day. I want to touch every part of you I can reach and know the places that will make you scream.”

He pulled his finger out, added more lube and pushed back in with two. It was too soon but Merlin just arched back into him at the slide. He fingered Merlin open fast and rough and then impossibly slow. “I love opening you up, taking this tight muscle that doesn’t want to be stretched and making it spread around my fingers. It gets so greedy; I can feel it begging me for a third finger or maybe my cock. I do so love to see it stretched red and used around my cock.”

“Cock,” was all Merlin said. 

He didn’t though, used a third finger and kept stretching. When Merlin was close, he pulled his fingers out and pressed the head of his cock to Merlin’s entrance. 

“I love the first push, when your hole tries to resist.” He pushed in, past the momentary resistance and began to fuck Merlin slowly. He reached around and tugged at Merlin’s cock. 

The man beneath him hissed. “No, I’m…” and then Merlin came with a shudder and a loud groan.

He continued fucking into Merlin until he came himself not long after. He pulled out and away, slumping down onto the mattress. 

Merlin curled into him minutes later, trailing his fingers through chest hair. 

“I obviously didn’t fuck you hard enough.”

“Oh you did,” Merlin said. “But now I want bacon.”

* * *

**19.**

**Inspired by:** [Sound #2](https://soundcloud.com/cheesymess/thunder)  
 **Pairing(s):** Arthur/Merlin  
 **Warnings:** they're 16, so underage by some standards. 

They're dripping wet when they tumble into the tent, Arthur falling forward onto his knees the moment he's inside. Merlin has to steady himself against Arthur's back to keep from stumbling over him. 

Merlin's laugh is loud, filling the muted sounds of the outdoors with its strange, high pitched squeaks. The first time Arthur heard Merlin laugh (which was basically the second he got in the door of their school as a new transfer student) he'd thought he was in a school full of nerds. Because, really. Really. 

And Merlin is kind of a nerd, one who wears nail polish because he can and lives for the drama club. But he's Arthur's best friend anyway because he'd taken him to the woods on his first day and passed him a soggy joint he'd hidden in his shoe. 

"Don't get water all over the sleeping bags, wanker," Merlin says. "Not gonna sleep in soggy wet crap."

"And how are you gonna manage that? We're both soggy and wet."

Merlin rolls his eyes at him, peeling the wet t-shirt off himself as the thunder rolls overhead again. They both pause for a second, looking up at the roof of the tent. 

It had been a gorgeous summer day when they took off to camp by the lake, begging their parents to go, promising not to do anything they shouldn't. Promising had been enough for Hunith, but not for his dad who had frisked them for forbidden substances before they left. 

Water slides from Merlin's hair (too long now, curling around his ears) and down his skin, pooling slightly in the hollow of his collarbone before he bends down to get out of his damp socks. 

The rain starts pounding on the tent and Merlin looks at him, smiling crookedly. "Guess we better stay in."

"Yeah. Me, you and your stinky socks." 

Merlin throws a sock at him and he flails, pushing it aside. 

They strip to their boxer shorts, slipping into their dry sleeping bags and listen to the rain drum on the tent until the walls of it droop a little. 

It's damp inside. The air is heavy and close. Arthur turns his head, looking at Merlin who's buried into his sleeping bag, hair still wet. Arthur studies his jaw and the line of his neck, picturing the naked chest he's seen a million times before, but now the thought makes him feel a little weird. 

Thunder breaks through the stillness again and Arthur fidgets, the closeness of the air and the tent making the words slide to the tip of his tongue. 

"Do you ever think about guys?" he says, heart picking up a mad beat. 

Merlin takes in a breath in the sudden stillness. 

"Yeah." It's quiet after that before he says, "I'm really, really gay."

It's hard to breathe. 

"Do you?"

"I think about you," Arthur says. 

Merlin looks at him, face suddenly close and his breath warm on Arthur's face. 

Merlin's lips are really warm and wet, pulling him in until they're so close that Arthur feels warm all over. He feels the kiss in his knees when Merlin licks his bottom lip a little uncertainly. 

The steady drum of the rain mixes with his heartbeat as they kiss a little clumsily, both too eager to figure it out entirely. But it's good. So seriously good and hot and soft. Arthur's fingers shake when he runs them down Merlin's neck. He wants to lick him, across his jaw, down his neck, along his ear. 

But he doesn't know if that's something you do. Maybe it's weird. Maybe Merlin would call him a freak and stop.

"I've never..." he says when Merlin's hand is hot on his skin above his boxers, branding him until he can't breathe. 

"Me neither."

He squeezes his eyes shut, breath whooshing out if him when Merlin's fingers wrap around his dick. The pressure is gentle, but it's Merlin's and that... _that_. He bites his lip, the muscles in his stomach jumping when Merlin slides his fist along the shaft. It's so new and it feels like it'll all be gone if he moves too abruptly. Like he'll never remember the touch of Merlin's hand on him if he breaks the moment. 

He opens his eyes, seeing the slightly cracked, blue nail polish on the fingers circling his cock and he arches up, crying out. Merlin watches him with parted lips, come sliding over his fingers.

* * *

**20.**

**Inspired by:** [Sound #2](https://soundcloud.com/cheesymess/thunder) (thunderstorm)  
 **Pairing:** Gwen/Merlin  
 **Warnings:** none

Gwen's nearly asleep when her shoulder bumps Merlin's. It's hardly more than a touch, a brush of skin against skin, but it makes Merlin sigh and shift on Gwen's narrow bed. 

"You can't sleep?" Gwen asks. Her voice sounds loud in the warm, still, nighttime dark. 

"Think I dozed off." Merlin yawns and stretches and for a few seconds, he's a tangle of awkward limbs and apologies until he settles on his side. "You're awake, too."

"Mm. Just barely, though. Maybe we ought to have stayed in the castle?"

Merlin shakes his head and Gwen knows what he's going to say; he's going to tell her that even if the castle's cooler, it's not as quiet, and that when the rain finally comes, it'll be nicer in here. 

She leans up to press her mouth to his and stop the words. He mumbles something about the storm against her lips as he smoothes his hand over her stomach, determined to get in one last word of persuasion.

Merlin doesn't need to, though; Gwen knows he likes the privacy of her little home, and she likes the way he makes it feel less empty and small. She even likes the warm press of his body and breath against hers, the way it makes it almost unbearable to sleep in the middle of summer with his skin so near to hers. 

A low rumble of thunder sounds in the distance just as Merlin's fingers curl between her thighs and Gwen's breath catches in anticipation. Merlin stills to listen to the storm approach, his palm cupped over her mound, and angles his hand to meet the rise of Gwen's hips. He strokes the soft, dark hair there and tickles her, laughing when she does and growing quiet once more when thunder rolls through the hot air. 

"We'll have rain soon," he murmurs, "then you'll be able to sleep better."

"Yes," Gwen says, and " _oh_ " at the press of two fingers between her lips. She's not quite wet, not yet, but she's ready to feel Merlin that close to her. He crooks one finger just right so that when she rocks her hips against his hand he can start to stroke her inside until she's wet. 

Merlin takes his time and Gwen likes that, too, how he lets her find a rhythm, how he strokes and teases her inner lips until his fingers are slick enough to rub over her clit and tease her there, too. His slim, strong fingers press inside her, then slip back out, and he flicks at her clit when she lets her legs fall open for him.

 

"Oh, Gwen," Merlin says, and "Gwen," with a stuttery breath when she yearns up off the mattress, seeking out his touch. 

When the thunder rumbles low and deep, Gwen can feel it all along her body, as if Merlin has lit up all her senses with his touch. She turns to kiss him again, feels his hand tremble against her, and catches the sharp scent of rain and dust when they break the kiss. 

"Now, before it really starts to rain." Gwen's not sure why she wants to beat the rain, but she does--she wants Merlin inside her before the heat breaks, before the cool breeze comes, and before they realize how tired they are.

A little dizzy with heat and need, Gwen closes her eyes and listens to the harshness of her breath, the soft way Merlin pants as he shifts positions and the louder moan he gives as he pushes inside her. She only opens them when his nose and lips touch hers with a soft kiss as he moves inside her. He's slow at first, teasing again, but his control dissipates as Gwen moves her hands down his sides and around his back to grip him tight and close. 

This is what summer ought to be, Gwen thinks then, sweat-slick skin and the slide of hot bodies against each other during the tense moments right before the first thunderstorm of the summer. The slow anticipation, the rain that falls soft and slow at first, and then the rush of the storm.

* * *

**21.**

**Inspired by:** [Sound #2](https://soundcloud.com/cheesymess/thunder)  
 **Pairing:** Arthur/Gwaine/Percival  
 **Warnings:** None

“What are we supposed to do now?”

“Ironic, isn't it?” Prince Arthur said as he stared out the window at the blinding rain. “We come here to be out in nature, and that's exactly what's keeping us from it.” He heaved a sigh, then turned to flop down on the sofa.

Gwaine looked at Percival. “He didn't answer my question.”

A loud clap of thunder reverberated through the room as if in response.

“Say, Arthur, there's really only one thing people do when they're stuck in like this,” Gwaine said suggestively.

Arthur rolled his eyes. “Our internet is down from the storm, Gwaine. Unless you brought some along, you can't watch porn.”

“Well, I can't watch, but you can.”

And then Gwaine launched himself at Percival. 

Percival took it in stride. He was used to his boyfriend taking advantage of his size, so he picked Gwaine up easily and set him down on the writing desk just as another roll of thunder clattered. 

Gwaine noted Arthur's lack of protest, and from his angle, he could see that Arthur hadn't left the room.

They'd become friends in university, and in all that time, Gwaine only knew Arthur to date women. He also knew that Arthur never seemed to enjoy it. His head never turned when a beautiful woman walked by, but when a fit lad jogged past or when Gwaine himself took off his shirt for fencing practice, Arthur's eyes would light up in interest. 

Gwaine could only conclude that it was Arthur's sense of duty to produce an heir that kept him from acknowledging what he truly wanted. And Gwaine was just bored enough, thanks to the storm, to test it out.

He slid his hands under Percival's shirt and helped him lift the garment off before hastily removing his own. Percival groaned and buried his face in Gwaine's neck, tonguing at the spot that drove Gwaine crazy. 

Percival looked over his shoulder at Arthur, who was stock still on the bed, staring. 

“Is this okay?” he asked calmly.

“Yeah,” Arthur whispered as a stroke of lightning illuminated the room, followed immediately by another loud boom.

“If you want,” Gwaine said slowly, trying not to spook him. “We don't mind sharing.”

Another forceful crack of lightning lit up the room, and with it the energy seemed to shift. As if suddenly recharged, sparked by the storm, Arthur stood and stalked toward Gwaine and Percival. 

“Are you sure?” 

Gwaine swallowed hard, the intensity on Arthur's face matched the quaking thunder. “Percival's fancied you for years.”

“Yeah?”

Percival didn't answer. Instead, he glanced at Gwaine, who nodded his permission, before he leaned down to press his lips against Arthur's. Gwaine could see the moment Arthur let himself give in, parting his lips and melting against Percival's sturdy frame.

When they broke apart, Arthur was panting. 

“Come 'ere,” Gwaine murmured.

Percival guided Arthur until he was standing between Gwaine's legs, his back to Gwaine's front. Percival unbuttoned Arthur's shirt and Gwaine pulled it from his shoulders, tossing it aside. He wasted no time, tracing his fingertips up and down Arthur's back, before brushing his lips against the prince's neck.

Arthur leaned back into Gwaine, giving Percival the opportunity to step forward, sandwiching Arthur between them. 

“Kiss him,” Percival ordered.

Arthur turned his head, the angle awkward, stretching to meet Gwaine's lips in a chaste kiss. As Arthur pulled away, Gwaine growled in unison with the rumble of thunder outside.

“Bed,” he stammered.

They stumbled across the room and into the master bedroom, divesting themselves of jeans and pants, before tumbling to bed in a heap. 

Gwaine knew Arthur's flesh had never been touched by a man before, only by women expecting something grand from the prince, for him to do all the work, and not worshiping him as they should. Percival seemed to have the same thought in mind, and they worked together, mapping Arthur's skin with their tongues and their fingertips to the steady beat of the rain pouring outside. 

Arthur writhed beneath them, the words “yes” and “more” spilling from his lips like oaths as Gwaine worked his nipples and Percival swallowed down around his cock. 

The storm swirled outside, fueling them, their ministrations growing more intense and frantic, until the cry of Arthur's orgasm swallowed by a crack lightning.

* * *

**22.**

Inspired by: [Gif #5](http://i.imgur.com/cM5FjDD.gif) and a bit of [Gif #1](http://i.imgur.com/wAtEitU.gif) ... and bacon  
Pairing: Arthur/Merlin  
Warnings: 

 

Arthur was making breakfast naked. The sizzle and smell of bacon was what the freshly showered and dressed Merlin had first noticed before the perfect round globes of his boyfriends arse came into his view. Some might be worried by the fact that Arthur seemed to have lost the ability to find pants around the time that he had quit his high paying job, but Merlin could only see the massive benefits. 

Merlin’s morning erection, which he had already taken care of before the shower when he had kneeled beside Arthur’s head and filled his open mouth, was now back at full force. 

He could not help but play with himself through his jeans as Arthur was too busy with the bacon to even notice Merlin standing there, rock hard. If Merlin had thought Arthur had been irresistible in his suits and ties, it was nothing to the sight of a constantly naked Arthur. 

The sight was edible, the soft cock dangling between Arthur’s legs made Merlin’s mouth water. He wanted to suck him down, feel him harden on his tongue, taste the first drops of precum and feast on his cock until he was filled. 

At this rate he was going to come in his pants. 

“Bacons almost ready,” Arthur said, noticing Merlin standing there. A double glance back and the sight of Arthur’s cock twitching as his eyes noticed where Merlin’s hand was playing with his obvious bulge was the undoing of Merlin. 

A few strides across the room and he sunk to his knees and lived out his fantasy. First suckling each ball into his mouth before taking the top of the now hard cock into his mouth and hollowing his cheeks as he sucked. 

Arthur still had not showered yet that morning and as Merlin let go of the delicious cock and nuzzled the coarse hair between the balls and the thigh he noticed where some of either Arthur or Merlin’s come was dried from last night, and where Merlin’s diligent clean up had missed this one spot. He bit down at that spot then tongued the dry come, making Arthur cry out and shudder above him. 

Merlin did not bother to pull his rock hard cock from his jeans. His hand outlined its length but Merlin held back on his own pleasure as he feasted on Arthur’s body. 

He took Arthur deep in his mouth and started to move up and down in a fast, brutal pace. Arthur’s whimpers and yells were the perfect substitute for caffeine. Merlin could not remember the last time he had felt this awake before breakfast. 

Arthur’s hand grabbed his hair and yanked him off his cock. It took a moment to realize the low, keening whimper was coming from his now free mouth. 

Arthur’s one free hand was stripping his cock in fast and brutal pulls. The slide made slick from Merlin’s saliva. 

“Want your breakfast?” Arthur asked, gasping, red in the face and chest and Merlin thanked the heavens Arthur was always naked and ready for him. “Open up, let me give it to you. I know what you need for breakfast. Come on. Oh god, Merlin.”

As Arthur’s come hit his cheek and then his mouth, Merlin felt his body tense and his own release fill his pants. Blushing deeply he couldn’t hide his sticky face or burning blush from Arthur’s dazed gaze since his hand was still an iron grip in his hair. Slowly, as both of their breathing returned to normal, Arthur’s hand loosened and stroked his cheek and played with the semen found there. 

“I think the bacon burned,” Arthur finally said, causing Merlin to laugh. 

“Ugh, I need to change,” Merlin complained, wrinkling his nose. 

“Eggs should be ready when you come back,” Arthur promised. 

Merlin pressed a quick kiss to the soft prick in front of him and got to his feet. Stealing one of the extremely burnt pieces of bacon, Merlin crunched down and patted Arthur on the back. 

“Sorry they’re ruined,” Arthur sighed. 

“Don’t be, I love them crunchy,” Merlin kissed his shoulder and went to change.

* * *

**23.**

 

 **Title:** Scritch Scratch  
 **Inspired by:** [Gif #2](http://i.imgur.com/injACeD.gif)  
 **Pairing:** Arthur/Merlin  
 **Warnings:** None

Merlin had never liked being on top before he’d met Arthur. Said he felt too exposed, his whole gangly body on show for the dubious pleasure of the man beneath; he’d been too self-conscious to let go, to lose himself, too focused on making sure he looked his best, a difficult proposition, overwhelmingly aware of his narrow chest and slim arms, the way his pale skin blotched pink when he was aroused, it all just made him want to hide in the safety of the dark, curtains drawn, lights off.

Planting his feet upon the bed, Arthur ground his hips up in small, harsh circles, hands sliding along Merlin’s sides to his hips, grappling for a firm hold on the sweat slick skin, hauling Merlin down onto his cock with every thrust, seeking to get deeper faintly aware of the headboard banging a new dent into the wall.

God he loved this, loved having Merlin astride him, seeing the difference between when they’d first gotten together, Merlin all angles and flushed cheeks, eyes embarrassed as he hunched forward over Arthur, trying to hide his body. Now though, Merlin was uninhibited, chasing his pleasure as Arthur released one hip, ran his hand up to Merlin’s neck, fingers threading into the damp strands of hair and hauling Merlin’s lips towards his own, mollified at the loss of the sweet, sweet depth and heat by the panting slick of Merlin’s mouth, those swollen lips sucking against his, agile tongue fucking into Arthur’s mouth to the same rhythm of their hips.

Merlin was convinced he couldn’t get enough of Arthur, like this, like he was only for Merlin; all arrogance stripped away, all sarcastic retorts and scathing jabs fallen back amongst the trail of clothes that led to their bed. If anyone had asked him, back before Arthur had muttered ‘Sod it,’ during their Wii Fit Friday Competition, dropped his controller and tackled a startled but more than willing Merlin onto the armchair, mouth gentle but insistent as Arthur’s hands slid beneath Merlin’s shirt, back before kisses and dates and love and shared keys, Merlin would have bet Arthur to be a bit of a selfish lover. Arthur had set about ruthlessly proving Merlin wrong.

“Arthur,” the moan little more than a whisper as Merlin squirmed, the feel of Arthur’s nails scoring down his spine and along his ribs, that gorgeous ring stuttering along his skin, the silver band a dull pressure in comparison. He couldn’t keep up kissing Arthur, his lips clumsy, grunts punching out into the air with each thrust as Arthur scratched his nails down Merlin’s sides once more. Merlin couldn’t help it, back bowing, head lolling heavy backwards as he struggled upright, leaning back on Arthur’s knees for support, hands running down Arthur’s arms to his hands, retuning them both to his hips, pressing down in silent urge for Arthur to keep them there as he splayed his legs even wider across Arthur’s hips, thighs burning as he rode Arthur faster as he pressed one hand against Arthur’s chest for leverage, the sweaty chest hair crinkly beneath his fingers, nipple a hard peak beneath his palm. 

“Touch,” Arthur bit out, palms itching to reach for the teasing length of Merlin’s cock, so hard and slick as it bounced in time to Merlin’s wild movements, slapping against his stomach. “I want,” he dug his nails into Merlin’s hips, clinging to where he knew Merlin wanted his hands, “I want –please - Merlin, God- show me.”

Merlin smirked as he sat back further, slowing his hips to little more than rocking, free hand circling Arthur’s bared nipple, rolling it between his fingers before sliding them down Arthur’s stomach and up onto his own thigh, teasing them both. Merlin bypassed his cock and scratched instead through the black hair that trailed from his navel to his groin, swirling the short hairs before dipping down to cradle his balls in his palm, already tight and high against his body.

“Merliiin,” his name was like a curse, spat out from behind gritted teeth. 

“This?” Merlin circled his cock loosely, hips fucking forward into his fist and back onto Arthur’s cock as he stared down at his lover lower lip bitten between his teeth. “This what you want? To watch me?”

Arthur grunted his response, fingernails digging harsh into Merlin’s skin.

“Then watch.”

* * *

**24.**

**Inspired by:** [Sound #2](https://soundcloud.com/cheesymess/thunder)  
 **Pairing:** Merlin/Morgana  
 **Warnings:** underage

The first time he held Morgana in his arms, the heavens tried to warn him. Thunder cracked the world in two.

But he heard her cry out, and if Merlin knew one thing about Morgana, it was she feared nothing. He went running, forgetting the task Uncle Gaius had sent him on, and found her in bed, eyes wild from the nightmare the thunder had woken her from.

In that moment, they held no station. He was a boy, she was a girl, and all that mattered to Merlin was helping her.

The second time, she came to him. As the storm raged outside Pendragon Manor, Morgana quivered on his room's threshold and uttered a single query.

"Can I stay?"

It became their ritual. Whenever rain descended after sunset, they found each other and hid away, wrapped around each other in a tangle of limbs. It was just supposed to be about comfort.

Until it wasn't.

Her face was buried in the crook of his neck. Sixteen-year-old Merlin had long ago learned how to angle his body to hide his erection from her. Later, after she crept back to her bed, he'd jerk off and remember how plush and warm her curves her against him, but he'd never betray her trust while she remained.

"Merlin..."

The latest storm rolled outside, but nothing as incidental as thunder could ever come between them. Her breath fanned hot over his skin, seeping its way into his ear, beneath his collar, stippling his flesh in goosebumps. His chest ached from how hard he fought not to let it show. "Yeah?"

But she didn't speak again. Instead, her lips followed the path her breath had, tentative and ticklish, as her bolder hand slid around Merlin's waist to slip inside his T-shirt.

He'd loved her since he was nine years old, when he first learned just how human the perfect Morgana Pendragon really was. Beyond these moments, he was still just awkward Merlin, unseen and unacknowledged, never sharing more than what they whispered to each other in the dark of storms. Uther would never allow his only daughter to be friends with a servant.

Merlin wasn't a fool, though. If she was offering, he was taking.

His arms tightened, his hands sliding downward to cup her ass. Morgana whimpered as he hauled her upright, better aligning their bodies so her full breasts crushed against his chest, but the sound immediately shifted into a groan. Her lips parted, her head tilted, and then there it was, the hard kisses he craved, her hunger as rabid as his own.

She was the one to strip first, clawing at his sweats until her hot hand wrapped around his cock. He thrust up into her fist on instinct, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from coming right then. From there, it became a blur, so much like the storm, moments of brilliant clarity as skin touched skin followed by the longer rumbles of moans and murmurs. Every dream he'd ever had, every promise he'd ever made to her, sprung to life with her touch.

Her breathy gasp when she came incited his own explosion. Their sweat mingled, fusing their bodies together as much as Merlin's caresses up and down her back bound them in other ways.

Letting her go back to her room alone was the second hardest thing he ever did.

The most difficult was watching her walk away for uni two years later without saying a word.

Against Uncle Gaius's wishes, he moved out of the manor, finding a small flat of his own, a life that didn't have memories of Morgana in every corner. The first night it rained in his new place, he stood outside beneath the sulky clouds and let it soak him to the skin. Each distant rumble reverberated through him, but the lightning strikes were few and far between.

The storm was beginning to abate when headlights turned into the close. He paid no mind to it, lost in his memories, until the car jerked to a stop at the curb in front of him. 

When Morgana climbed out, his heart lodged in his throat. He devoured the sight of her, unable to move even when she stood in front of him.

She lifted her eyes, her wet hair plastered to her cheeks. "Can I stay?"

Fresh lightning blinded him for a split second, but his answer wouldn't have changed. In all the years he'd loved her, it never had.

"Always."

* * *

**25.**

**Inspired by:** [Sound #3](https://soundcloud.com/cheesymess/stag)  
 **Pairing:** Arthur/Morgana  
 **Warnings:** half-sibling incest, pregnancy

The vision came to Morgana at night, beginning as a memory: Arthur naked except for the stag’s antlers upon his head, coming toward her in the light of the bonfire. Morgana woke to the sound of a stag bellowing, his call sounding again and again. She opened her eyes as dawn broke across the Isle of the Blessed, her heart thundering, and knew Arthur would come to her. She shivered with anticipation and with fear, and set out to meet him. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” Morgana said.

“You’re always so quick to strike,” Arthur said, smiling at her. 

She glared at him. “Why are you here?” 

“It’s Samhain.”

Morgana stiffened. “That night on Beltane was a ritual to join your kingship to the land’s magic—it gives you no privileges now. The king belongs in Camelot.”

“And the priestess in her Isle,” Arthur said in return. He placed his hands, his touch feather-light, upon Morgana’s rounded belly. “But sometimes the two will meet.”

Morgana lifted her chin defiantly, and began to draw the hood of her cloak over her head. Arthur’s hands caught hers, drawing the hood back down, and gently clasped her hands in his. 

“We were children together,” Morgana said. She kept her voice steady, if not her pulse.

“And now we are not. But can we be neither king nor priestess now?” Arthur asked. He brought her hands to his mouth, and kissed the insides of her wrists.

Morgana’s breath came in sharp gasps as he kissed her, her body betraying her as it always did when it came to Arthur, the same way it did now as she carried his child.

Arthur fell to his knees in front of her. He pressed his forehead to her stomach, his breath steaming in the morning chill. “Please, Morgana,” he said at last.

Morgana lay her fingers in his hair, and bent to kiss the top of his head. “Yes, Arthur,” she said softly. She knew no other path to follow.

Arthur snapped like a string had been cut. He kissed her urgently in every place his mouth could reach, and touched her with his hands where it couldn’t, from her belly to her breasts to her parted legs, where she was already damp from wanting him.

Morgana wrapped her arms tightly around Arthur’s neck, any lingering doubts gone. He reached up to gather her into his arms and guide her down to the forest floor. He stripped off his tunic, tucking it underneath her lower back and hips for support, watching her with wondering eyes. He carefully parted the folds of her cloak, running his hands over her stomach gently, caressing it, and pressed a kiss to her navel. 

Morgana’s nipples hardened in the cool air as they were exposed, more sensitive now with her breasts grown fuller to keep pace with the child growing inside her. As if he somehow knew, Arthur closed his warm mouth over one nipple and then the other, soothing their ache. Morgana placed her hands in his hair once again, guiding him downward. He moved obediently, pausing once again to press a kiss to her stomach, and then pushed her legs apart.

Arthur did not have a clever tongue. Unlike Morgana, who was accustomed to telling silver-tongued lies or twisting words to call a spell to life, Arthur didn’t sway the truth to suit his needs. Instead, his was an honest, open tongue, saying words that became the truth. And it was that tongue now intent on giving her pleasure, straightforward and true in its purpose. He licked at her, delving deeper and deeper into her until she came underneath his tongue, her whole body shaking as her climax overtook her. 

Panting, Morgana watched Arthur through lowered eyelids as he lifted his mouth away. He slid strong fingers underneath her thighs, easing them apart. Morgana was grateful for the deep, springy moss as he entered her swiftly, sweat beading on his back as he began to thrust. 

“Gods—Goddess, Morgana,” he said brokenly, and spread a hand over her stomach. “I want this—I want this for us.” He moved inside her, rocking forward with each hard thrust until came with a shout, his cry echoing throughout the Isle like that morning’s stag before him. Morgana shuddered with pleasure, the familiar warmth spreading inside her as Arthur came.

Her eyes drifted shut as another image overtook her: a crown upon her head as a queen and priestess both, sitting on a throne with Arthur beside her, their child playing at their feet. Vision or ambition, she prayed to the Goddess that it would come true.

* * *

**26.**

**Inspired by:** [Sound #1](https://soundcloud.com/cheesymess/phone-vibrating), [Image #2](http://i.imgur.com/TrLTbYH.jpg),[Image #5](http://i.imgur.com/c2KgTyr.jpg)  
 **Pairing:** Gwen, kind of one-sided Gwen/Morgana  
 **Warnings:** Underage (exploration of sexuality by a minor), phone used inappropriately, internalized embarrassment/shame

It's accidental, how Gwen discovers the site and she makes sure to bookmark the site under something innocuous. It is the perfect site, posting mostly pictures and the occasional gif. The first picture she stumbles upon is a collage of breasts and dicks and her mind breaks, a rush of heat pooling between her thighs. 

That night is the first time Gwen touches her body with intent. She doesn't dare slide her fingers beneath her panties, just presses against the material, but it's enough to make her gasp with pleasure. The feeling is scary in its intensity and she moves her hand before anything happens, curling her fingers into her pillow. The throb between her legs settles, enough for her to fall asleep. She wakes feeling unsatisfied.

She doesn't try to touch herself for a few more days, but eventually her curiosity wins out, and she opens the website again. Gwen's alone in the house, which means she doesn't have to worry about someone walking in on or overhearing her. Masturbating already makes her feel bad enough; she doesn't need her father or brother knowing she's interested in sex. 

Masturbation seems like it should just be easy and natural, exploring her body, but Gwen just can't jump straight into the process. She strips down to her panties (she tries, at first, to take those off, but the thought makes her blush and she leaves them on), and curls up in bed, checking her email and Facebook and trying to act like everything is normal. She's not going to be doing anything, it's just another night, and and - 

Gwen closes out Facebook and opens up the website, mentally forcing herself to not slam the laptop closed. It's a huge struggle, and she has to take a few deep breaths before she can look at the pictures on her screen.

There have to be thousands of images and she goes through them slowly, feeling the heat pool between her thighs, her nipples tightening into hard nubs. She resolutely doesn't touch them. 

The pictures vary from sweet and almost innocent - or at least as innocent as pornography can be - but it doesn't take too long before there are pictures featuring people bound in rope, or blindfolded, or gagged. Sometimes all three. 

It's the picture of two girls kneeling on the bed, one with her arms bound and stretched over her head, that pushes Gwen over the edge. She identifies with the girl and it hits a spot she never even knew existed. She wants to be that girl, bound and tied and stuck in one place, with someone else touching her. She shifts away from the computer, curling on her side and slides her fingers beneath her panties, seeking a relief from the tension that makes her body throb and ache.

It doesn't take much to cause her to tremble and arch as she massages her clit, but it's not enough. She wants something more, but she can't identify what.

On the nightstand, her phone suddenly lights up with a call from Morgana, vibrating against the wood. Gwen grabs the phone with her free hand and shifts to lay on her back, sliding the phone between her legs. She's thankful for the cotton barrier of her panties now, because it's easy to move the phone against her pussy and not worry about destroying anything. The vibrations are perfect, especially when she slides a finger inside herself. Altogether, it pushes her higher, the tension rising, and she can feel something shifting in her body. She's so close.

The call ends and Gwen whimpers, disappointed, body sagging back to the bed. She's ready to call it quits when Morgana calls again, and the vibrations go straight to Gwen's core. Her body clenches around her finger, toes curling in her sheets, and she whimpers Morgana's name. When he comes to, she's panting, the sound loud in her ears, and her body feels heavy. 

Gwen moves her hands, pulling her finger out, and brings the phone to her ear. Morgana will probably try calling again if she doesn't pick up, and this way she can talk to the other girl a moment, hang up, and go to sleep. 

"Hello?" she says, her voice still unsteady and uneven. 

"Did I interrupt anything?" Morgana asks, laughing. She sounds breathless, and Gwen shivers at the sound.


	2. Group B (warnings)

**27.**

**Inspired by:** [Sound #4](https://soundcloud.com/cheesymess/walking-on-gravel-soundbible) and [Sound #2](https://soundcloud.com/cheesymess/thunder)  
 **Pairing:** Arthur/Merlin  
 **Warnings:** Major character death

Merlin hasn’t heard the soothing crunch of boots on gravel in nearly eight months, but that doesn’t stop him tearing back the drapes to look out at the old path anyway, his mind inventing sounds he longs to hear out of grief and desperate, misplaced hope. It’s not a sound he’ll ever hear again, he knows. Even if someone happens down the walk, it will never be the same as those heavy feet and their warrior’s gait, out of place in a world that’s forgotten.

  


Arthur always came with the lightning, riding thunder to Merlin’s door and bringing the wet with him, pressing it against Merlin’s front. His mouth was electric when he kissed Merlin, the door still open and the rain blowing inside, his body shielding Merlin as he slipped cold hands under his T-shirt.

Merlin didn’t know where Arthur went, but it made him ravenous, slamming the door shut and shoving Merlin against it, holding his chin and staring at him. Merlin buried his nose in Arthur’s neck, finding him there beneath the metallic scent of rain, needing this: his skin, his sweat, precious and irreplaceable.

“Stay with me,” Merlin said for the thousandth time because he couldn’t help himself. He would never stop trying to tether Arthur to him with his magic and, when that failed, with his limbs, wrapping his arms and legs around Arthur’s back as Arthur fucked him, slow and deep, thumb in Merlin’s mouth, watching.

“What if this were the last time?” Arthur asked, and the question would have terrified Merlin instantly if he hadn’t been so far lost in the haze of arousal and Arthur, his proximity and heat and the smell of him.

“Every time is the last time,” Merlin said into his mouth, pausing to lick inside. “And the first time.” It took Merlin a moment to catch up, his stomach lurching as he realised there would never be another storm strong enough to bring Arthur to his door.

Arthur stilled him, hands strong on Merlin’s hips as he pulled away. He took Merlin’s hand and lubed it generously, said, “I want you to.”

Merlin pressed his fingers to Arthur’s entrance, a first in their centuries of being not quite together but never irrevocably separated. He felt Arthur’s heat, watched his face—the downturned corners of his mouth, the furrow of his brow—every piece of this experience unique. As Merlin sunk his cock in, he pushed Arthur’s fringe back, held his hand across the seam at his hairline as though Arthur were as feverish as Merlin felt. He startled a gasp out of Arthur and then a moan until he was groaning in earnest, eyes closed and chest heaving. Merlin tried to memorise each sensation: the curling of Arthur’s fingers around his arm, the way Arthur’s breaths came short and loud, his body quaking with how new this was, how final.

“Wish I’d let you do this before,” Arthur said.

Nothing could be done to rectify this, to give Arthur more time. All his life had been used up, squandered on a handful of frantic fucks in Merlin’s cabin, their hunger for touch destroying all capacity for growth together. Time and longing had made them tired, made them crack apart when they touched, but they hadn’t changed at all.

Arthur promised an end to lamenting the sunshine, the places they couldn’t touch and the things they couldn’t have. With his release sticky between them and Merlin’s thumb fucking into his arse, rubbing his come deeper as though it would allow them some permanence, Arthur told him:

“I know how to die.”

  


For the second time, Merlin held Arthur through his passing, tore open every old wound that had never fully healed. He kissed his king, loved him desperately, and buried him, not above water but underground, permanent this time. Arthur would someday be nothing but bones, and Merlin … Merlin would always _be_.

  


Merlin can’t help feeling that Arthur has really died this time, that being born again means losing everything they were. It hadn’t even been half a life, cut to shreds and drowning in all the time they couldn’t share, but it had still been Arthur then. A new Arthur is unthinkable, pale and incomplete, and Merlin knows that even when he’s lost his own identity, the intimate knowledge of Arthur will never leave him.

“You’ll find me,” Arthur had said. “You’ll make me remember.”

Merlin sits in his cabin and waits to forget.

* * *

**28.**

**Inspired by:** [Sound #2: Thunder](https://soundcloud.com/cheesymess/thunder)  
 **Pairing:** Merlin/Arthur  
 **Warnings:** None

Merlin’s head jerks up when his monitor lights up with the words “Entry : Arthur Pendragon - Front Door”, and he groans. Not again.

Wiping the speck of drool from his lips, Merlin carefully consults The Map for possible thunderstorms, and, sure enough, there are four today. Four which weren’t there—Merlin checks his watch—a hour ago when he closed his eyes. Something is up, but Merlin isn’t sure what. 

Ignoring his monitor, which now flashes “Exit : Gwaine Sullivan – 1st East Window”, Merlin pushes back his chair and waits for his very unwelcome visitor, the Lord of Lightning and Thunder.

Soon enough, Elena pokes her head in and announces that Arthur is here, simultaneously wiggling her eyebrows. It’s the tenth day in a row he’s been here, do something about it Merlin, her eyebrows say. Merlin lifts one eyebrow to say it’s none of your business, shoo, before she withdraws and is replaced by Arthur.

“Your Excellency!” Arthur says, striding over to hug Merlin. When Merlin manages to avoid it and gives Arthur a very firm handshake instead, Arthur’s face falls minutely before his expression becomes neutral again. “Gwaine called me in and said something about emergency storms?”

“I didn’t hear about them, but they’re on The Map.” Merlin answers curtly. He waves his hand at the door, slamming it behind Arthur. “Look, I don’t know what you’re playing at, Arthur, but it’s got to stop. Earth’s environment can’t take that many thunderstorms in a month, and frankly, neither can my sanity.”

At this, Arthur’s expression transforms into smirk. “Your sanity?”

Merlin refuses to be intimidated. He _was_ the God of the Skies after all. “Yes my sanity. I’ve been running around making sure everyone else is on track, not to mention I’ve had to completely clear out the clouds just to make sure Earth gets enough sun on a cloudy day. Do you know how hard that is?” 

Arthur waves his hand dismissively, moving closer to Merlin, “I’ve heard it’s very easy.” And Merlin curses Gwaine and his big mouth. “I’ve also heard that your sanity is going out the window because of,” Arthur whispers, “something else.”

Merlin can feel his blush creeping up his neck. Scoffing, he averts his eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself.” 

“Flattering myself, am I? I’ve heard that you pine for me, and become grumpy at your minions on the days I don’t come in.” Arthur says, leering on the word “come” and invading Merlin’s personal space, causing his breath to hitch. Feeling his the blood rush south, Merlin backs up, horrified. 

“I don’t--!” comes his immediate denial, but Arthur plows on. 

“You shouldn’t be so stubborn,” Merlin’s back hits the wall, “You’re allowed say you like me.” Arthur’s breath fans across Merlin’s lips. “After all, I like you too.” And Arthur’s lips are on his, and it’s glorious and molten arousal spreads everywhere through Merlin’s body.

He can’t deny his attraction anymore and Merlin gives in. Kisses Arthur back. 

Arthur kisses exactly the way Merlin expects him to, hot and furious, licking everywhere as if claiming Merlin for himself. Moaning, Merlin bucks his hips and is rewarded immediately with Arthur pressing him into the wall, grinding his hips into Merlin, creating lovely friction.

Merlin’s body seems to have a mind of its own as his hands pull Arthur even closer, his legs automatically falling apart to give Arthur more access, his head falling back to expose his neck for Arthur’s perusal. 

“Yes, _yes_ , oh god—“ Merlin babbles, barely able to hold on, and Arthur’s tongue does something filthy to his neck along with a particularly hard thrust, Merlin comes with a cry of “Arthur!”. It slams into him, fireworks made of pleasure exploding under his skin, whipping around him and cocooning him. 

Merlin barely hears Arthur’s own strangled groan as Merlin comes down from his high, struggling to regain his breath

“So..” Merlin whispers, wanting to clarify what he heard earlier “You like me?” 

Arthur gives him a blinding smile, “Yes, I do.” 

“And that’s why there have been unnecessary storms this month?”

Arthur at least has the decency to blush and avert is eyes. “Yes.”

Merlin’s lips twitch. “Want to go back to my place?” The look that Arthur gives him is enough to make him teleport them into his bedroom, and stay there until the next morning.

* * *

**29.**

**Inspired by:** [Gif #5](http://i.imgur.com/cM5FjDD.gif)  
 **Pairing:** Arthur/Merlin

Arthur wasn’t surprised to see him already at his desk when he walked into the lecture hall, his posture deceptively laid back, his nose was buried in the class’ tome-like history text. Arthur didn’t acknowledge him when he went to the front table to prepared for the day’s classes. 

Pinpricks tickled up his spine with the sensation of being watched. “Mr. Emrys,” Arthur hedged without glancing up from his grading log. “Is there something you need?” His voice echoed in the empty room before it faded into the tick of silence. 

When Emrys failed to respond, Arthur looked up. He sat in the front row, slouched down with his legs splayed, his hand stroking a sizable bulge in the front of his jeans. Bright blue eyes locked with his own.

His pulse ratcheted up and his throat tightened. He glanced at the clock and saw that there was still fifteen minutes until the start of class, but he knew there were likely only scant minutes before other students began wandering in. “Mr. Emrys,” he warned, a pointless gesture emphasized by the growing smirk at the corner of Emrys’ lips. Arthur’s trousers grew uncomfortable.

“I have a question,” Emrys finally said, cheeky eyes, cheeky grin, cheeky _everything_ , and his hand tightened, white knuckled, around his erection. “About the Battle of the Bulge.” 

A shock of laughter burst out of him. “Are you serious? Of all the historical innuendo you could have pulled from, you went with the Battle of the Bulge? You’re getting lazy.” 

Emrys’ smile widened into something daffy and bright, warming Arthur’s chest. “But Professor, the _swelling_ of the Bulge was an important counteroffensive.” 

Arthur rolled his eyes. “I would have been more impressed had you managed to make innuendo out of the Battle of Rimini or Operation Cobra.” 

“Operation Cobra? That’s even more obvious than the Battle of the Bulge.” 

“Is it? Hmmm.” Arthur moved from behind his desk and approached Emrys, slow and deliberate. He stopped in front of Emrys’ desk, positioning himself to tower over the other man. He watched Emrys’ pupils dilate and his breath quicken. Arthur grinned and placed a palm on the ball of Emrys’ knee. He squeezed and Emrys’ breath caught. “Also, I distinctly remember telling students that questions like this were best addressed during office hours.” 

The door to the lecture hall flung open, startling them both. Several students entered the hall. 

“Office hours, Mr. Emrys,” Arthur repeated as he rushed back behind his desk in a flurry that was in no way reminiscent of a strategic retreat. 

Class began with its usual pomp and circumstance and Arthur avoided looking in Emrys’ direction. When he finally chanced a glance, Emrys’ hand was back on the front of his jeans. Arthur resisted the urge to drag him from the room by the rim of his over-large ear. 

Every squeeze, twist, and stroke eroded Arthur’s calm and composure. Emrys rubbed the front of his jeans in small aborted motions so the students next to him were none-the-wiser. Emrys drew his lower lip between his teeth and began to bite and suckle, causing Arthur to choke and stumble over his words as he outlined Operation Blackcock for the class. 

He ignored Emrys’ snicker. 

After an excruciating and long class, Arthur dismissed everyone and wondered if he’d have time to go to the loo before his next lecture started. Emrys, impertinent and arrogant as ever, sat in his desk with a challenging grin and an erection that must be bordering on painful after an hour of teasing himself for Arthur’s benefit. 

“I regret the day I ever said you could audit my class,” Arthur said. “You’re a menace and I bar you from ever coming back.” 

“Lies.” Emrys grinned. “I perhaps pushed things a little too far, but don’t pretend you didn’t love every second of it. Have time for a quickie before your next class?” 

Arthur glowered. “You know I don’t.”

Emrys stood and leaned forward to kiss him on his cheek. “Then I’ll make it up to you tonight at home: a private detention with Dr. Pendragon.”

Arthur wanted to roll his eyes, but a thousand colorful scenarios flashed through his mind. “Set out the paddle and you’ve got yourself a deal,” Arthur whispered, mindful of the students trickling into the hall for his next class. 

Emrys’ eyes went dark. “Are you going to punish me?”

“Thoroughly.”

* * *

**30.**

**Inspired by:** [Sound #1-phone vibrating](https://soundcloud.com/cheesymess/phone-vibrating) (and the bacon)  
 **Pairing:** Arthur/Merlin  
 **Warnings:** none

Merlin woke to the insistent buzzing of his phone. He groaned, fumbling blindly on his bedside table until his hand closed over it, fingers sliding over the screen.

"'Lo?"

"…who's this?"

"Merlin," Merlin answered automatically, still half asleep, and then frowned. He pulled the phone away from his ear long enough to glance at the screen, and didn't recognize the number on it. "Wait, who are you?"

"Arthur." A pause. "Uh, sorry, I've obviously got the wrong number."

Merlin snorted. "It's fine, it's only –" he checks the clock beside his bed. "…four in the morning."

"Yeah." Arthur sounded embarrassed. "I, uh. I'm going to hang up now."

"Okay," Merlin said, and felt an odd pinch of disappointment. "Hope you reach whoever it was you were trying to get."

Arthur huffed out a laugh. "Thanks. Sorry about waking you up."

The line went dead and Merlin sighed, setting the phone back onto his nightstand. The sexiest voice he'd heard in ages, and it was just a bloody wrong number.

*

"Is this Merlin?"

The voice sounded hesitant, and Merlin shifted the phone to his other ear. "Arthur?"

"Yeah." Arthur chuckled a little, and it sounded nervous. "Look, I know this is odd, but I'm having a debate with my sister and all of our friends are equally divided, and I couldn't think of any other neutral party, so, um. Could you help?"

Merlin laughed. "I don't see why not."

"Great," Arthur said, voice brightening. "Okay, Morgana – that's my sister – says that sausage is the superior breakfast meat, but I think bacon is better."

"Definitely bacon," Merlin said, grinning as Arthur crowed in victory and said something to someone on his end.

"Thanks, Merlin, I appreciate the help."

"Anytime," Merlin said, and was surprised to find he meant it.

*

Figuring fair was fair, Merlin called Arthur the third time.

"So I was wondering," Merlin said when Arthur picked up. "If someone wanted to watch Star Wars, but his best friend and roommate wanted to watch a bad horror movie marathon on telly, which one would win?"

"Ooh, tough one," Arthur said. "As classic as Star Wars is, I think I'd have to go with the marathon. Those don't happen every day."

"Exactly!" Merlin exclaimed, and Arthur laughed.

When they hung up thirty minutes later, Merlin gave in and saved Arthur into his contacts.

*

"M&Ms or Skittles?"

"M&Ms, obviously. Beer or wine?"

"Beer. Wine is for when I'm having dinner with my father. Ice cream or cake?"

"Both together. Jennifer Lawrence or Liam Hemsworth?"

"Oh, Christ. Can I say both together as well?"

"Who _wouldn't_ say that?"

*

"So Merlin, where do you work?"

"I'm a video game designer. How about you?"

"Architect. I, uh. I own Pendragon Designs, actually."

"Oh, really? Don't think I've ever heard of it." Arthur spluttered on the other end of the line, and Merlin laughed. "I'm kidding, you guys are huge. Pretty sure you designed the building I live in."

"I'll refrain from asking what you think," Arthur said, and Merlin could almost hear his eyes roll. "So what games have you created? I like to play a bit when I've got the time."

Merlin rattled off a list, and flushed with pleasure when several of Arthur's favorites where on it.

*

"Merlin," Arthur gasped into his ear, and Merlin groaned. "Why haven't we done this sooner? Your voice has been driving me _mad_."

"You – yours too," Merlin managed. His hand was wrapped tightly around his cock, his other pressing his phone tightly to his ear. "Oh, god, Arthur, you have no idea. Every time we'd hang up I'd have to go lock myself in my room and have a wank."

Arthur made a choking noise. "Are you touching yourself right now?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I wish it was you."

"I want to meet you," Arthur said, breathless, and if Merlin listened hard enough he could hear the sound of flesh on flesh. "There's a pub, the Sword & Dragon –"

"I know it," Merlin said, closing his eyes. "Saturday night, at seven?"

"Oh, god." Arthur groaned, and Merlin's hips jerked, cock sliding through the tight ring of his hand. "I'm going to take you home after, get my hands all over you. I want to fuck you, feel you around my cock, make you beg me to let you come –"

" _Fuck_ ," Merlin choked out, and pulsed in his hand as he came all over his stomach.

Arthur's breath hitched and he grunted, and Merlin shuddered as he realized Arthur was coming, too.

"Saturday at seven," Arthur finally slurred out.

Merlin grinned dopily at his ceiling. "Can't wait."

* * *

**31.**

**Inspired by:** [Image #3](http://i.imgur.com/XFkVoo4.jpg), [Gif #4](http://i.imgur.com/3G2rMRQ.gif), [Gif #5](http://i.imgur.com/cM5FjDD.gif)  
 **Pairing:** Arthur/Gwaine/Merlin  
 **Content:** bondage

Merlin places his keys on the table next to the door and yells, "I'm home!"

"In the bedroom!" is Gwaine's response, and something about the tone of his voice gives Merlin pause. He mulls over it for a moment, then quickly takes his shoes off and throws his backpack onto the living room couch.

The bedroom door is wide open, and it gives Merlin a perfect view: Arthur completely bound, his entire body covered in criss-crossing ropes. Arthur's ass cheeks are faintly red too, and that just makes Merlin groan, knowing that Gwaine spanked Arthur just to display him like this.

Gwaine is sitting on the chair next to the bed, and he's stroking his erection through his jeans. "We've been waiting for you."

Merlin nods and takes a wobbly step forward. Arthur's glaring though, despite the gag, and that finally gets the gears in Merlin's head going. Right. He takes a deep breath and strides over to Gwaine with purpose.

The kiss he gives Gwaine is sloppy, both out of desperation and because he wants to give Arthur a good show. He places his hand on top of Gwaine's and urges him to stroke faster, until Gwaine's thighs start to jerk.

Arthur's whine breaks them out of it. Merlin pulls away. It takes him a moment to get control over his emotions, but when he does he manages to give Arthur a stern look. "You're gagged for a reason."

He hears Gwaine suppress a laugh, and Arthur struggles against the ropes. The way he's tied, with his wrists attached by a short length of rope to his ankles, he really can't do much more than wiggle his reddened ass. Drool is already starting to slip out of the corner of his gagged mouth, and Merlin squeezes Gwaine's shoulder to steady himself.

"Maybe we should just leave him like this," Merlin suggests. "Teach him how to be good."

Arthur's eyes widen and he thrusts his hips forward, the tip of his cock dragging against the bed sheets. 

"I don't know," Gwaine responds, "it looks like he just might rut against the bed if we don't do anything."

Fuck, Merlin would love to watch Arthur do just that. An idea for another time, perhaps. He gets on the bed and arranges Arthur into a sitting position, his cock jutting straight at Gwaine. Merlin tugs on it briefly, then leans in close and drags his tongue along the shell of Arthur's ear. Arthur shudders and sags into him.

"Gwaine got you all trussed up for me. Love how you look," Merlin says, loud enough for Gwaine to hear. Arthur groans again, but he's stopped struggling, doesn't even move when Merlin begins pumping him in earnest.

Merlin lets his gaze flick over to Gwaine, who hasn't so much as undone the zipper on his pants. He seems content to just bide his time. "Shoulda seen him struggle, Merlin. Had to spank him before he settled enough to be tied."

When Merlin palms Arthur's ass, Arthur squirms. Precome dribbles out of his cock onto Merlin's fingers.

"Well, he's good and submissive now," Merlin says, "just waiting to be used."

Yeah, Arthur obviously likes the sound of that -- his head falls backward against Merlin's shoulder, and it's such an invitation that Merlin can't resist sucking a hickey onto him. He keeps stroking Arthur, varying his grip anywhere from feather-light to too-tight.

The bed shifts, and Merlin looks up to see Gwaine sitting on the other side of Arthur. He's already got lube on his fingers and Merlin pulls on the ropes to keep Arthur distracted, so he's caught by surprise when Gwaine's fingers plunge in.

After that, it doesn't take long to get Arthur off, not with the two of them tag-teaming him until Arthur is sobbing through the gag. Merlin pulls the gag off the moment Arthur is spent and shoves his own cock in there, because he really can't wait longer. Arthur's mouth is slack but it's slick and warm and exactly what Merlin needs.

\--

Later, Merlin asks, "What brought this on?"

Arthur buries his head in Merlin's shoulder. "Nothing. Doesn't matter anymore."

Gwaine strokes Arthur's hair. "Yeah, I think everything's good now. But you're a sport, Merlin. Sorry I didn't give you time to prepare."

It should bother him, but Merlin's just glad his boyfriends have learned some conflict resolution without him chaperoning. "Next time, I want to see you tying him up."

"Deal," Arthur says, and kisses them both.

* * *

**32.**

**Inspired by:** [Gif #4](http://i.imgur.com/3G2rMRQ.gif)  
 **Pairing:** Arthur/Merlin  
 **Warnings:** Bondage, breathplay.

 

The ropes are beautiful, but they're there for a reason. Arthur wants to help Merlin be good. Arthur doesn't have to try to make Merlin into a work of art, because he already is one, but he loses himself too fast, he squirms and he writhes and he doesn't deliberately disobey but he can't control himself, sometimes.

That's okay. That's what Arthur's for. 

Arthur lips along the rope that slides between Merlin's pectoral muscles, and watches him shiver. 'You can make as much noise as you like,' he says, soft against Merlin's skin. 'But don't move, okay Merlin? Don't move.'

The instruction is for show, really. Merlin's tied kneeling, ankles to thighs, wrists to wrists and elbows to elbows. He can topple over, and he can toss his head, and that's about the limit. 

'Green?' Arthur adds, murmuring. 

Merlin nods, hair flopping sweaty in his eyes. 'Green,' he breathes. 'Please -'

'Shhh,' Arthur says, thumbing Merlin's soft mouth open and bending to kiss him. 'I've got you. Tell me what you want.' 

Merlin trembles against, within, the ropes, and licks into Arthur's mouth hungrily. He strains - Arthur can feel the sinew of him - until the bindings press into his skin. 'Make me take it,' he says hotly. 'Stretch me, Arthur, put me where you want me, hold me down. Make me do what you want -' and Arthur grabs the criss-cross lattice between Merlin's shoulderblades and pulls until he arcs like electricity, knees planted, thighs spread, crown of head kissing the mattress and between those points all the glorious slinky naked sweat-wet skin of him - red and white and pink, and his cock standing proud, framed in rope. 

Arthur muscles in between Merlin's knees and cages down over him, bites his collarbone under a rope so that every move will chafe it, so that Merlin will have the marks he loves, the pressure and contact he loves, even when Arthur is too preoccupied elsewhere, and shifts his grip from the rope at Merlin's shoulders to the ones knotted like a pearl necklace (and there's a thought for later) around his throat. 

He twists his fingers, tightens everything up, and Merlin takes one last deep breath before Arthur restricts his airways. It makes his chest inflate, puts his nipples on show even more, and Arthur can't resist. He lets his fingers twitch in amongst his knotwork, tighter and looser and Merlin pants, gasps, wheezes, while Arthur licks and sucks on his nipples. 

'Fuck,' Merlin manages to slide between his airless noises. 'Arthur. Wanna. Need. _Harder_ -' and Arthur nips and runs his teeth over that tender, soft, puckered and peaked skin, and feels how hard Merlin is fighting to stay still, be good. He can't help grinning, and moves lower. 

Merlin's cock jerks, spills precome when Arthur licks at it. He knows it's a tease, lapping gently at the head of it, but he can't go down deep, properly, when he's stretching to keep Merlin in place. He's doing the best he can, really, and if he happens to like how hard it makes Merlin squirm, that's beside the point. 

_'Please,'_ Merlin whines, and Arthur straightens up, pulls back to look Merlin in the eye.

'Can you be good?' he asks. 'If I let go, will you stay there? While I suck your cock?'

'Yes,' Merlin hisses. 'I swea - I _swear_ -'

Arthur releases the ropes and Merlin's chest heaves involuntarily as he gets some air, but he doesn't move - stays arched the way Arthur put him, and that makes Arthur's mouth water, makes his cock jump between his legs. Makes his heart clench with something he feels stupid naming. He sucks Merlin down before he can say something ridiculous. 

Merlin babbles, locked into place by rope and his own will and _obedience_ , and Arthur licks, noses down deeper until he's breathing the true scent of his lover, raw and hot and pure. 

When Merlin comes, Arthur drinks it down - not just the taste, but the sound of Merlin's pleasure wrecked in his throat, and the way he shakes to stay true to the ropes and stays that hold him, not lose his balance, to do as he promised. And when he's sobbing, panting, spent, Arthur rises up to his own knees and lays his hand on himself, his other back to the knots at Merlin's throat, and comes on his own knuckles, on the shadows between Merlin's collarbones, on his pale skin, like milk over the flushed, bitten red of his mouth, and watches him lick it away. 

No, Arthur doesn't have to do a thing to make Merlin be a work of art.

* * *

**33.**

**Inspired by:** [Sound #2](https://soundcloud.com/cheesymess/thunder)  
 **Pairing:** Merlin/Arthur  
 **Warnings:** None

Running his hands up and down his arms, Merlin set about closing all of the windows in Arthur’s flat. He didn’t know why all of the windows were open in the first place. It was raining and Merlin was afraid of water getting on the floor. 

When he gets to Arthur’s study he smiles at his boyfriend who is hunched over his desk grading papers. Jumping a little at the loud clap of thunder, Merlin shuffles over noisily and struggles to slide the window closed. 

“ _Mer_ lin, I just opened that!” Arthur complains. 

Merlin holds up his hands in a sign of surrender. “Sorry.” Merlin grunts as he opens the window again. “You do know it’s raining.”

“Yes, Merlin I do have ears. Thank you.” Arthur says without looking up from his papers. “I like the sound of the rain, especially thunderstorms.”

Merlin turns and admires Arthur’s chest. They just had sex earlier and Arthur is seated in his leather chair wearing a white buttoned down shirt and nothing else. It’s completely unbuttoned and Merlin thinks Arthur looks incredibly sexy.

Merlin leans forward. “I didn’t think that would be something you’d like. I would have thought you would have thought thunderstorms to be too messy and loud.”

As he places his pen down, a smile crosses Arthur’s face that seems a bit wistful and sad. “That’s funny because that is actually how I used to feel about them.” Arthur swings his chair around, grabs Merlin by the waist and sits him down on his lap. “My mother loved thunderstorms. I remember this one day we were at the beach and I was having a horrid time because I can’t swim. Plus, the feeling of sand in my toes annoyed me - still does. But it was Morgana’s day to choose.” Arthur sighs. 

“The sky was practically black. It started pouring down rain ten minutes after we got there. Morgana and I hurried to collect all of our things, but my mom didn’t seem to be in any hurry. She opened this big pink umbrella that she had and gathered the two of us under it and just watched the rain, with most serene look on her face.” Arthur clears his throat. “That was our last perfect moment with her. She told us she had cancer the next day. I always think of her and that day when it rains.”

Merlin didn’t say anything, just wraps his arms around Arthur’s neck and buries his head in the crook of her Arthur’s neck. They had been dating for sixth months and this was the first time Arthur talked about his mother with Merlin. Merlin feels closer to him than ever before. Merlin looks up in surprise when Arthur starts to laugh.

“Merlin!” Arthur swipes his hand gently over Merlin’s crotch. “You’re hard.”

Merlin looks down and can feel his cheeks redden as he looks down.

“I tell you a story about my poor dead mother and you get aroused.” 

Even though Arthur’s tone is playful Merlin can’t help feeling incredibly mortified. He buries his face in his hands. “I’m so sorry. You’re just being so open with me and I love you even more and you look so sexy in that shirt...” He rambles. “God, I’m such a pervert.”

Arthur removes Merlin’s hands from his face. He looks at Merlin fondly. “You’re my little pervert.” He kisses him on the lips playfully.

The kiss quickly becomes more heated. Arthur slides his hand up Merlin’s thighs and lifts Merlin up as he quickly stands. Merlin wraps his legs around Arthur’s waist. Arthur turns them around and lowers Merlin down on his desk. He quickly rips off Merlin’s underwear. 

Merlin is still open and wet from their earlier activity. Arthur wastes no time in thrusting into Merlin. Merlin arches up and groans.

As Arthur begins to pump in and out of him, Merlin scratches his nails down Arthur’s back moaning deeply.

Arthur takes Merlin’s hands and holds them against the edge of the wooden desk with one hand. He uses his other hand to grip the edge to give him better leverage to start driving into Merlin.

“Oh fucking hell, Arthur!” Merlin cries.

“Merlin, fuck, I’m going to come!”

After one more thrust, Arthur spills his seed inside of Merlin.

Merlin can feel his warm come filling his ass and comes screaming Arthur’s name. 

They pant against each other’s mouths. Arthur carefully pulls out of Merlin as Merlin runs a lazy hand through Arthur’s sweaty hair. 

Arthur kisses the tip of Merlin’s nose and then pulls him into a sitting position. He grins at Merlin devilishly. “Perhaps I should start taking you to funerals since death seems to be such a turn on for you.”

Merlin pinches Arthur’s nipple. “Prat.”

“Pervert.”

* * *

**34.**

**Inspired by:** [Image #4](http://i.imgur.com/5Hy8VB3.jpg)  
 **Pairing:** Arthur/Freya  
 **Warnings:** canon major character death (i.e. Arthur's in Avalon)

The waters are cold around him. They sting his eyes as he sinks in the deep shifting blues and dirty greens, the yellow tinge of faint diluted light.

At first, she’s only a vague shape--white naked skin, dark hair floating around her--pushing through the hazy colours until her lips are on his, blowing air that he doesn’t need between them.

She puts her arms around his chest, kicks with her legs, her knees knocking his thighs. She swims up until they pierce the surface of the lake, into the blinding sun, and he lets her drag him to shore, fingers tight on his skin. He loves the annoyed look she gives him, and the roll of her eyes when he grins back.

She pushes him impatiently on his back to the grassy floor and straddles his thighs, small hands spread wide on his chest. Her hair sticks to her forehead and shoulders, dripping water drops that shine into the light.

“Every single time, Arthur,” she says with an angry roll of her hips, rubbing herself against his hard cock. He grips her naked waist--marveling at how small she really is between his hands, while he knows she’s almost supernaturally strong--and lifts his hips, cock sliding on her stomach.

“I have to keep trying,” he says, already a bit breathless, a bit blinded by the angry spark in her eyes, and the ever vibrant green of Avalon.

She bends down and he flicks his tongue out at one of her nipples, before closing his lips around it and sucking. She tastes like salt, and lake water.

A moan escapes her and she arches her back. He moves his hands to her arse, pushing her against him, grinding harder against her.

“You have to--have to trust Avalon,” she says, breath warm and wet against his lips. “You have to trust me.” She drags her tongue over his lips and slides a hand between their bodies, guiding his cock inside of her, where she’s slick and warm.

He kisses her then, hard and urgent, wrapping his arms around her body, holding her still as he fucks into her. She moans and grunts into his mouths and he gathers the sounds on his tongue, rolls them in his mouth, precious and sweet.

It’s rough in the way he now knows she likes it. She pulls back a little to take a deep breath and Arthur cannot understand how they can need air right now, gasping and panting, lungs almost burning. As much as he loves the sounds she makes into his ear, over his skin, he resents it a little, too, this false mimicry, this reminder of life when theirs are over.

“Be patient,” she says, teeth over his earlobe.

“It’s not like I can die again,” he says, heat tightening in his stomach, losing his rhythm, frantic.

“Doesn’t mean it’s not going--going to--fuck--going to hurt.”

“Worth. It,” he says, punctuating each word with a deep, hard thrust until he’s coming inside of her. She crushes her mouth to his, swallowing his gasps as he shakes and trembles, fingers digging in her sides.

She pulls off of him and lies on her back, hands quick and fast between her legs. She arches her back again and Arthur loves the perfect curves it makes, creamy white against the green of the grass, hair the colour of rich earth, and he’s struck at how otherworldly she looks right in this moment.

He turns and licks the sweat and water off the underside of her left breast, biting gently at her nipple, wrenching a whimper from her lips.

Kissing down her side and stomach, he sucks the remaining lake water from her skin and then pushes three fingers inside of her where she’s dripping wet with his come and her own juices. She grabs his hair tightly with one hand, while the other works frantically on her clit.

“Come on, Freya,” he says. “Come for me.” And bites the inside of her thigh. She comes with a scream, closing her legs around his head. He flicks his tongue over her, between her fingers, while she spasms around his.

“Had I known, I would have made sure Merlin buried you in another bloody magical lake,” she says, voice cracking, but Arthur knows there’s a smile there too.

He laughs, mouth and lips tasting of her skin, her sex, the lake water, making the wait just a tiny bit sweeter.

* * *

**35.**

**Inspired by:** [Gif #2](http://i.imgur.com/injACeD.gif), [Gif](http://i.imgur.com/F8Vw5SJ.gif) [#3](http://i.imgur.com/SfiMqmh.gif), bacon  
 **Pairing(s):** Arthur/Gwaine/Merlin(/Percival), (Arthur/Percival, Merlin/Gwaine)  
 **Warnings:** mild voyeurism, barebacking

It was moments like this Percival enjoyed the most, when the three of them were so lost in each other they forgot about him watching and stopped trying to put on a show.

It wasn't easy; not with the way Gwaine loved to show off (and how much it really turned Merlin on), how the two of them couldn't keep their hands off each other, and the easy way with which Arthur just fell into it so seamlessly, like he wasn't intruding at all.

And, watching the way the three of them moved in tandem now, writhing on the bed, Arthur wasn't intruding. He kissed Merlin over Gwaine's shoulder, making Merlin's hips stutter, breaking the hard and fast rhythm with which he fucked Gwaine.

Gwaine raked his nails down Arthur's back, marking him in red stripes Percival wanted to lick, making Arthur break away from Merlin and push against Gwaine, hands on his forearms, holding, lining up their cocks.

Percival bit his lip to hold back a moan, to keep them in their world, his hand barely moving on his cock, holding off his orgasm until they got their fill. He never let himself come first.

Arthur and Merlin bracketed Gwaine, his long hair plastered to his neck with sweat. Merlin moved his hand from its grip on Gwaine's hip to grab Arthur instead, guiding him to a rhythm matching his own, moving seamlessly. 

In that moment, Percival loved them all so much; loved how much they loved each other, and how perfectly their bodies fit together, he loved being able to watch.

When they got to this point, moving in such unison, it wasn't long before they came. Percival finally let his hand speed up, trying to match their movements. 

"Merlin, fuck, _please_ ," Gwaine moaned, pulling Merlin into a desperate, lopsided kiss. 

"It's ok, Gwaine, we'll make you feel good. Let us." 

Merlin squeezed Arthur's hip twice and Arthur nodded at him before untangling himself from Gwaine and sliding down his body, licking, kissing, until he got to Gwaine's leaking cock; then sucking. Arthur let Merlin's thrusts push Gwaine's cock into his mouth, Percival watched it fucking past his gorgeous lips, spit and precome dribbling down Arthur's chin.

Percival had to close his eyes at that, knowing just how good Arthur's mouth felt, staving off his orgasm. It was a choked off sob that brought him back to them. He watched Gwaine shudder and shake through his orgasm, coming deep down Arthur's throat. Arthur took it all.

Gwaine calmed down with gentle hands and kisses from Merlin and Arthur, and Arthur let Merlin move them around enough to kiss him, to share Gwaine's taste between them. 

Arthur knelt up when Merlin seemed content with it and slid his hands into his hair, holding him in place as he fucked into Merlin's mouth while Merlin kept fucking into Gwaine's orgasm-limp body.

With a few more punishing thrusts that drew more moans and sobs from Gwaine, Merlin was coming, filling him up. Percival watched, knowing Merlin probably wanted to collapse down next to Gwaine, but Arthur's tight grip on his head wouldn't let him. It kept him in place as he fucked Merlin's mouth relentlessly.

Arthur looked at him then, and Percival finally let himself go. He fucked into his tight fist, while his other hand tugged on his balls over and over, making his head swim with the overstimulation. As Arthur's rhythm stuttered and a string of intelligible noises and swears fell from his lips, Percival knew he was coming and with a "fuck" of his own, he spilled all over his fingers.

Breathing heavily, Percival let his eyes rest for a second, stroking lazily, trying not to pay attention to the three on the bed, hoping he wasn't intruding. He opened them all too soon when a wet heat enveloped his limp cock, making him almost jump up.

He looked down into Arthur's grinning face and burst out laughing.

"All clean." Arthur said when he pulled off and clambered into Percival's lap, sucking Percival's sticky hand into his mouth and curling up, leaving Percival with no other choice than cuddling. It was a real chore, that. He looked over to the bed finally and couldn't help but smile at the way Gwaine and Merlin lay in a tangled mess of limbs, both already slipping away to sleep, with their faces right next to each other, noses rubbing.

"Told you, Percy, bacon lube was the best idea ever."

* * *

**36.**

**Inspired by:** [Image #4](http://i.imgur.com/5Hy8VB3.jpg)  
 **Pairing:** Merlin/Arthur  
 **Warnings:** none

The screams still echoed in his head so Arthur took another drink. Around him the crew were laughing, even drunker than Arthur’d managed, though he’d been at it for hours.

The booty had been glorious. His father had stood at the helm, his gold tooth glinting in the setting sun, and told everyone to drink their fill and dance to the sound of the gold coins below desk as they rolled with sway of the waves.

The rum turned sour in Arthur’s belly as he reached for his cup with blood stained hands. There had been children on the ship they’d attacked, more women and children than Arthur had ever seen at sea before. They were heading to the New World, maybe to a better life than what they’d left behind. Or maybe to finally join their husbands and fathers who had been sent ahead to make a home.

Arthur had led the slaughter, at his father’s orders.

He took another swig of his rum and stumbled to stand by the rail. He stared out at the black sea shimmery in the moonlight and remembered when hours before, his crew had made it run red.

Leaning over the rail, he vomited.

The only son of the dastardly Captain Pendragon, feeding the fishes with the contents of his stomach over a few innocents; he’d be walking the plank if his father knew his thoughts. It was his fate. He couldn’t hide forever. He had no taste for piracy, no choice for a different life.

He lifted his boot onto the plank. It didn’t feel so bad under his feet. He looked around, but the crew were all below decks singing songs with lewd lyrics. He stepped onto the plank fully, stumbling a bit with the roil of the sea. The wind in his hair, his arms out for balance, it was the freest he’d felt since asking permission to come aboard the _Golden Dragon_.

He took another step.

He hadn’t meant to jump. Nor had he meant to lose his balance, but a splash in the distance, and glimmer of scales and silvery pale skin had him stepping further without thinking.

The water was frigid, pin-pricks of icy cold covered his skin like falling onto broken glass. He sobered instantly, but it was too late to stop himself from taking in a lungful of water.

It was a peaceful way to die, drowning. He hadn’t realised.

The moment Arthur gave in, closed his eyes and accepted his fate, arms wrapped around him. None too gently, they squeezed the water from his lungs, an instant later lips pressed to his. It was so dark, it was as though he were blindfolded. He was certain he was being kissed. Or he’d in fact died and this was heaven, except the ache in his lungs as oxygen replaced the salt water was too painful to be anything but real.

He drifted in and out of consciousness as he was dragged along, too drunk and too exhausted to try to think of how and why he was still underwater and still alive, or what this creature was who had saved him -- kidnapped him -- or where they were going.

He was being taken from the _Golden Dragon_ and the bloody-thirsty demands of his grief-stricken father, and that was all he needed to know.

It was dawn by the time they arrived at a beach; the water was pink with the rising sun. The creature hovered over him, covering Arthur’s body with his own, keeping Arthur’s nearly naked body warm in the chill November breeze. It had silver scaled skin and midnight black hair, its blue eyes lit with amusement as Arthur stammered to find words.

The merman capture Arthur’s mouth in another kiss, rolling them until they were both covered in sand, twisting against each other. The waves tickled Arthur’s feet as they writhed together, warming themselves until Arthur was as drunk on life as he’d never experienced before.

Squirming lower, tail splashing in the outgoing tide, the merman opened Arthur’s breeches and took him into his mouth. Arthur gasped, arching into the wet sand. His hands twisted into the merman’s long dark locks; they were cold, slippery as seaweed. His mouth was beautiful, devoted to pleasing Arthur like no other he’d experienced. Arthur cried out under the attention, stunned by the intensity of his orgasm.

The creature swallowed it all and grinned. “Found you again, Arthur.”

* * *

**37.**

**Inspired by:** [Gif #5](http://i.imgur.com/cM5FjDD.gif)  
 **Pairing:** Arthur/Merlin  
 **Warnings:** underage (16), unspecified age difference, authority differencel, power play, teensy bit of Teen-Wolf-inspired cross-over in one scene.

 

“MISTER Emrys – to my desk, now, please.” Professor Arthur Pendragon snapped, after the umpteenth disruption to his Classical Literature lecture. “That is enough, Merlin. You will turn out your pockets on my desk, please.” Ah yes, there was the dratted kazoo tumbling to the surface, along with a wad of used tissue, a handful of spare change, and… what the bloody hell? - a trim square of plastic with the label XXL, skipping off the desk and skittering across the classroom floor. The class tittered. Mr. Pendragon flushed and gathered himself to offer a sympathetic look to his young charge, who must be assuredly mortified by this humiliating exposure…

But the young man’s eye gleamed wickedly, and a decidedly insubordinate smirk teased his otherwise straight face. And then he had the audacity to WINK at his teacher, his lewd suggestion unmistakable. Mr. Pendragon shut his eyes tightly, willing himself to take several breaths before returning his gaze to the unruly class. What was meant to be a quelling glare turned to widened eyes and a quick in-drawn breath as the professor was met with the vision of Mr. Emrys bending down casually to retrieve his wayward condom, presenting a tightly-clad backside to the teacher in flippant insouciance. 

Lord protect him from students who mature precociously, Pendragon thought as he returned to the board to illustrate his points challenging the historical accuracy of Monmouth’s Historia Regum Britanniae.

It was as he returned to his desk after handing out the review quiz that the teen caught his eye once again. A deliberate lowering of his dark lashes drew Arthur’s attention downward to a shadow of movement beneath the boy’s desk, where, concealed by the desktop from the notice of the other students, Emrys was drawing the palm of his hand across his denims, firmly squeezing the most impressive and intimidating erection that Pendragon had had the misfortune to see. “Oh dear God,” the teacher sent a prayer for strength under his breath. He really did try to steel himself against the vision, but as the students industriously put pencil to paper, he found he could look nowhere else but the rebellious act playing out in front of him.

Emrys was apparently adept with those long, perfect fingers of his. In perfect ambidexterity, he rapidly jotted his answers onto his page with his left hand, while his right continued to massage and stroke the outline of his erection. He chewed on his pencil as he contemplated his responses, and his face remained impassive as he completed the page (and God help him, his answers had better be correct). In a most ridiculously contrived manner, his free hand strayed down between his thighs, his body arching in his seat to slide his crotch forward. He cupped his scrotum through his jeans and gave it a hard squeeze, allowing a crooked ring finger to trace along the hard denim seam, his nail scratching the fabric back and forth along his perineum. Arthur could swear that the boy’s dick was longer than his entire hand, and as thick as the mug of coffee cooling amid the stacks of papers on his desk.

He forced his eyes away from the torment, lifting his eyes only to discover young Emrys watching him intently, knowingly. Holding his gaze, the young man (the boy, dammit, barely 16, how hard it became to recall this,) allowed his impassive mask to drop, parting his lips, his half-lidded eyes and rapidly rising chest a clear indication of the silent pleasure of his release. 

As the bell chimed and students rose in the chaos of class change, Merlin Emrys zipped his hoodie with a satisfied smirk, tugging on the hem to cover any visible evidence of his antics. He stuffed his books into his pack and slung it over a shoulder, merging into the stream of jostling classmates in the migration to the front of the class.

Pausing to lay his paper on the pile, he met his teacher’s eyes with with an expression of utter guilelessness. “So, Mr. Pendragon - detention tonight, Sir?” He blinked innocently

“Detention.” Arthur repeated in bewilderment, his throat swallowing reflexively. “I don’t think…”

“3:00 o’clock, Sir?” He placed a hand flat on the wide oaken desk that stood between them, leaning in close to the teacher’s ear, his warm breath turning Arthur’s gut to jelly. “Have your desk cleared off, Sir,” he whispered. His compelling blue eyes pinned Arthur to the spot. “For when I bend you over it. Plan to stay late - I like to take my time.”

* * *

**38.**

**Inspired by:** [Image #2](http://i.imgur.com/TrLTbYH.jpg)  
 **Pairing:** Morgana/Gwen  
 **Warnings:** Bondage, orgasm denial, D/s, pet play, collars

Morgana _loves_ the feel of silk gloves. She puts them on and admires the black fabric against her own pale skin, runs them down her naked body and then turns in her tall heels to look down at the girl kneeling by her feet. 

She’s certainly a sight to behold. Morgana had chosen her at the club for her lithe body, nimble fingers, amazing smile and laugh, curly bouncy hair and adorable dance moves. She was like a cat, soft and cute but with that hint of claws that could scratch your face off. Morgana loved that. So, she had asked the girl, _Gwen_ her name was, if she liked to play as a kitten too. And indeed, she made Morgana’s night when she said she’d love to. 

Gwen was pawing at her feet, her naked body skimming against Morgana’s legs and Morgana shivered in pleasure. The thick, heavy collar on the girl’s neck was a perfect fit. She was gorgeous and Morgana resisted the urge to just jump her and rut against her like a horny teenager. She wanted more out of this night then that-- perhaps another night when she wasn’t feeling the need to dominate. 

“Kitten, I thought I told you not to touch yet?” Morgana raised an eyebrow, looking down her nose at the girl at her feet. The girl quickly backed up and sat on her haunches, staring up at Morgana with those deep brown eyes that were masked with innocence but also had a spark of mischiefness. “Such a bad kitten,” Morgana continued, reaching down to hook a finger under the collar and drag her along to her bedroom down the hallway of her flat. The kitten took the cue and quickly walked on all fours, following Morgana into the room. 

“Bad kittens get punished, yes?” Morgana chuckled slightly, helping Gwen up onto the bed. Gwen blinked and nodded, slightly unsure. Morgana leaned in and whispered in her ear. “Remember the safeword.” 

The girl smiled and looked down, and a fond feeling entered Morgana’s heart. Perhaps this one was a keeper. Regardless, Morgana got back to the task at hand. She patted the girls’ bum and grabbed her softest rope, asking Gwen to raise her hands in the air. 

Morgana climbed onto the bed and tied Gwen’s wrists together and then lead the rope up to the metal bar above the bed, tying it there as well. She looked down and saw Gwen biting her lip and squirming slightly, pressing her thighs together. 

“Oh no you don’t,” Morgana said in a low voice, hands running down Gwen’s arms, neck, breasts and belly, fingers caressing between her legs. Her other hand pulled Gwen’s legs apart. “Keep them spread for me, darling.”

Gwen shivered hard and moaned, spreading her legs and rocking against Morgana’s hand, the delicious feel of the silk gloves against her skin. Morgana quickly took off one glove and guided two fingers into Gwen’s pussy, a groan deep in her throat when she felt how wet and hot the girl was there. “So fucking gorgeous. Dripping wet for me already and we’ve barely done anything yet. You like your collar? Like being tied up, displayed on my bed?”

Gwen nodded, eyes closed and lips parted, her breathing shallow. Morgana leaned in and kissed her hard, moaning into her mouth as she fucked Gwen with her fingers, rubbing her clit in firm circles. The girl jumped and writhed against her, tugging against the rope. Morgana knew there would be marks on the girl’s body after she left Morgana’s flat. With that thought in mind, Morgana pulled away from Gwen’s mouth wetly and leaned down, mouthing at the skin just above the collar, licking and biting at it until a bruise formed. 

“Oh-- oh-- Morgana-- gods--” Gwen moaned loudly, bucking her hips against Morgana’s hand as her head fell back, allowing Morgana more room on her neck. 

“Kittens do not speak,” Morgana said softly, pulling her fingers out of Gwen smoothly. Gwen gasped, eyes opening and squirming from the sudden lack of friction on her clit. “You will keep your legs spread, waiting.”

Morgana smirked at the dismayed look on Gwen’s face as she got off the bed and wiped her hand on a towel, putting her glove back on. “Is that understood, kitten?” 

And Gwen, sexy-as-fuck, gorgeous and mischievous, simply nodded and licked her lips, spreading her legs wider and arching her back shamelessly.

* * *

**39.**

**Inspired by:** [Sound #3-stag](https://soundcloud.com/cheesymess/stag)  
 **Pairing:** Arthur/Merlin  
 **Warnings:** Brief pseudo-bestiality (animal transformation, sort of)

‘Baaaa,’ says Merlin.

‘That’s a _sheep_ ,’ says Arthur.

Merlin turns to glare at him; the antlers Arthur whittled the night before wobble precariously on his head. Then he tries again, only marginally closer to a proper bellow. 

It’s quite possibly the funniest thing Arthur has ever seen. 

‘Come on, then, Merlin. I expect you to attract at least half the deer you’ve ever chased off.’ 

Merlin’s neck is flushed with annoyance. His back feels hot where Arthur’s leaning over it, keeping Merlin in place, crossbow hanging half-forgotten by Arthur’s side. The next cry could come from a particularly irritated donkey; it echoes through Arthur’s own chest, and when he says, mocking, ‘I’m making this our new secret signal,’ perhaps his voice comes out a little too fond.

*

As it turns out, they don’t need a secret signal at Camlann, or ever again.

*

He slips in and out of sleep, of pain; dreams of a stag with awkward, too pale antlers on the other side of his crossbow, his fingers shaking on the trigger.

He dreams of lowering the crossbow, while the stag bellows above him.

He wakes up.

*

There’s an odd stone structure in the middle of the island that Arthur can only guess is related to magic-worship, but there’s no one here to ask except the endless mists. He didn’t even see the lake until he accidentally stepped in it, then hit an invisible wall. 

He’s trapped, panicked; searches wildly for prey, doesn’t find any.

Then he discovers you don’t get hungry when you’re dead. 

*

He feels numb; sleeps for days, years. Tries not to lose his mind. But then, he already has.

*

He thinks he hears the cry of a stag once, sharp, from across the water; sits up at the sound of _something_ in a sea of eternal nothing. 

He’s never realised how much it sounds like someone in pain. He hears it again the next time he’s awake.

*

The dreams come back, only now his arms close around the stag’s neck. It’s a little rough, and so warm. Arthur might not get hungry for food, but he aches to capture the creature just the same, his fingers digging into the fur, clinging. He’s curled around it on the ground, its chest rising under his palm, alive. The antlers feel smooth under his fingers. The stag’s rapid heartbeat echoes in his own chest as it twists around to nose eagerly at Arthur’s throat; it licks his face, and he laughs. Licks back. 

It’s a dream, after all.

Its fur is pricklysoft against his thighs, and when he buries his nose in it, it smells oddly familiar, like home. He feels a want so sharp he’s rolling his hips before he can think about it. The fur is rough against his cock, too, better than it has any right to be, and hot, hot – and then he’s kissing a mouth, incongruously. He’s pushed onto his back, and Merlin climbs him, bites Arthur’s lip; licks the tip of his nose again, clumsy, desperate. Looks at him for too long and with too much sadness, like he’s still on the other side of the lake. 

Merlin’s mouth is as hungry as Arthur’s fingers, like he can make Arthur stay if he sucks his skin hard enough, kisses it with enough reverence, _everywhere_. Merlin’s hair is pricklysoft between his fingers where Arthur holds on to it when Merlin sucks him down. He doesn’t remember pleasure; doesn’t remember it feeling this good. He curls his palm around Merlin’s neck where it’s flushed with desire when he comes, holds on. Holds on.

He wakes up with bruises on the soft insides of his thighs, where his fingers have dug in, and come all over his stomach.

*

He sleeps; counts every bruise when he wakes up, even when they’re down his back.

*

A piece of driftwood floats ashore. Arthur blinks. Finds it’s a tiny wooden boat.

The ‘Sorry’ carved into its side feels rough beneath his fingers. 

His heart can’t beat too loud, but it can hope for too much.

*

The next one says ‘Baa’.

The one after that says ‘Rise and shine!’, the carving wobbly.

*

His fingers hurt from days of working with a sharp rock when he pushes his own tiny boat out. 

It keeps drifting back.

*

On his ninety-second try, slim, unfamiliar fingers creep out of the water, curve over the rim; guide his boat through the barrier.

(‘I’m coming’, it says.)

*

A stag bellows, and he steps into the water. Swims.

* * *

**40.**

**Inspired by:** [Sound #1](https://soundcloud.com/cheesymess/phone-vibrating),[Sound #2](https://soundcloud.com/cheesymess/thunder), [Gif #5](http://i.imgur.com/cM5FjDD.gif)  
 **Pairing:** Arthur/Merlin  
 **Warnings:** None

Arthur sits on his couch and listens to the rain come down outside his window. There is a small crack of thunder and he feels the shudder run down his body.

He doesn’t know when it started, but storms are like the biggest turn on for Arthur. Ever since he can remember, the minute a storm would start brewing in the west, he could feel it in his dick. He once told Merlin it was like how someone suffering from arthritis feels it in their bones, only so much more pleasurable.

Of course, that’s when Merlin had giggled and said, “Feels it in their... _bones_?”

Arthur wants to shake his head at the memory, but there is a flash of lightning outside, followed by a slow rumble of thunder and Arthur groans. His cock is throbbing in his jeans and just the thought of Merlin - as ridiculous as he can sometimes be - isn’t helping matters.

Why had his trip to Cardiff been this weekend? Why couldn’t he be there right this second, so Arthur could fuck him six ways to Sunday?

Arthur paws at his dick through his jeans and moans when he squeezes the head. He let his head tip onto the back of the couch and makes an obscene sound in the back of his throat. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He needs to fuck.

Arthur unbuttons his jeans and is about to undo the zip when he hears his cell phone vibrating against the leather beside him. His head lolls slowly over to see who it is and grins lazily when Merlin’s name is flashing at him. 

He uses his free hand to answer the call and puts it on speaker. “Mmm, hey,” he says and finishes unzipping his jeans.

Arthur shimmys them down his legs when Merlin answers, “Thunderstorm?” He sounds tinny through the line, but it’s enough. Merlin will indulge him, he knows it.

Arthur smiles down at the phone and traces his cock with his fingertip through his briefs. “You should be here,” he says in lieu of an answer.

There is a muffled shuffling sound on the other end of the phone and then Merlin says, “I wish I were. It would figure the first spring storm would come in while I’m away.”

“I miss you,” Arthur says and slips his hand into his briefs, gripping his cock and letting out a tiny groan. “I’m so fucking hard, Merlin. I need you.”

Merlin moans on the other end of the line. “God, I want nothing more than to wrap my hand around your dick right now.” And this. This is why Arthur is in love with Merlin. Because he knows exactly what to say to make Arthur’s dick twitch, exactly how to make precome dribble from his slit, exactly how to make those pleasant butterflies goes berserk in his stomach with just a couple of breathy words.

“Are you touching yourself, Arthur?” Merlin asks. “Are you thinking of my fingers stroking you and my mouth wrapping around the head? Are you thinking of how fucking wet my mouth is and how I want to devour your cock?”

Arthur makes a choked off noise and nods his head at the phone, his fingers gripping at his cock and stroking hard and fast. This isn’t going to be a marathon. He needs it too much.

“Let me hear you, Arthur.” Merlin’s voice is scratchy and raw and it’s no surprise to know that Merlin is stroking himself in Cardiff just thinking about the things they could be doing together right now. “Let me hear you when you think about sliding your huge cock in my arse. It’s so tight and only for you, Arthur. Let me hear you. Fuck me.”

Arthur’s groan is loud and he can already feel his balls tightening, his release only moments away. Merlin. The storm. All of it is too much for Arthur.

He keens when his orgasm hits him hard and his come spills out over his hand, warm and sticky. Merlin usually cleans that all up for him. With his tongue. He groans again, his dick twitching through aftershocks, but already thinking another round would be okay.

“Fuck yeah,” Merlin says on the other end and Arthur moans again when he hears the telltale sounds of Merlin coming.

*****

Twenty minutes later, they are still on the phone talking and the storm is still raging outside. Arthur misses Merlin.

* * *

**41.**

**Inspired by:** [Image #4](http://i.imgur.com/5Hy8VB3.jpg) and [Sound #2](https://soundcloud.com/cheesymess/thunder). Plus bacon.  
 **Pairing:** Arthur/Freya  
 **Warnings:** Past character death.

He become aware that he is standing on the shore of a lake, looking across the water to the distant smudge of land, a faint glow of firelight drawing his eye inexorably. Above him, heavy clouds flicker with lightning, low, grumbling thunder dragging after.

A notion comes to him -- _I need to cross_ \-- and grows in urgency as he looks around for a boat, raft, anything. There is a shallow wooden vessel, crumbling with age, that looks like it would fall apart at a touch. He looks down at himself, at the chainmail and shoulder plate, vambraces, greaves, the thick gambeson. He would sink like a rock.

He... he is... Arthur Pendragon, dead. A rumbling growl grows distinct from the thunder as a dark shape separates itself from night.

Some kind of outlandish cat-beast, black and sleek, great wings folded close to its body... Familiar, though he can't quite recall seeing it. It approaches him without fear, and he holds himself still as it scents him delicately, nips at his glove and pulls it off before brushing its cheek against his knee, then hand.

Oddly charmed, he settles his hand in the rough fur and rubs behind its ear and the back of its neck. The beast looks up at him with luminous eyes, considering, then closes its jaws firmly over his arm and drags him into the lake, and under.

He realises: he hadn't been breathing. But now that he is aware, his lungs are burning from the lack as the lake seizes his heavy armour and pulls him down. He clamps his mouth shut to keep water from rushing in, then small hands frame his face and a mouth seals over his, and as he opens his mouth, shocked, air rushes in, filling his lungs with air that smells of moist green earth and the lake, a bitter tang like the storm drumming distantly above them on the water surface, and a thin but fierce undercurrent of animal musk. His fear of drowning slips away, and he opens his eyes to see a pale young woman before him, smiling gently.

 _Arthur Pendragon. You freed me, once,_ she says, takes hold of him.

He isn't surprised he can answer, _I don't remember._ She unbuckles the plate, pulls off pieces of his armour, his gloves, his boots. His numb fingers try to help her with the chainmail and gambeson as she pulls him apart.

Freed of his sodden garments, he is still sinking. The woman wraps her arms around him, arresting his descent, and they begin to rise through the water. He can feel her soft breasts pressed against his bared chest, and her hip between his legs, the fine dress she wears no barrier in the water. He places his hands on her shoulders, afraid to touch, and she laughs at him, her body undulating rhythmically against him in an imitation of sex as she draws them through the water with forceful motions.

 _I was cursed,_ she says, and something about her feral smile and the way she moves through the water brings to mind the winged cat-beast. _You freed me,_ and he remembers the creature stalking though the streets of Camelot. 

_You were the beast?_

In answer, she kisses him again, breathing into him, and his hands slide down to her waist. She hooks a leg around his. She begins to rock against him in earnest, riding his thigh, and he kisses back, thrusting into the tight press of wet silk between their bodies. She shudders against him, but keeps rocking, clutching his hips close as he groans into her neck, until he spills his seed in her lap with a cry. _My king. Merlin saved me. You freed me. We have been waiting._

They break the surface. Arthur's strength abandons him as she drags him onto shore.

He falls heavily to the ground, and she crawls on top of him, places her hand over his heart. She strikes him once, twice, then dissolves back into the lake as he feels the silent organ jolt to life. Arthur pants desperately for true air, feeling blood roar in his ears and burn painfully through all his extremities.

He lies there, breathes, lives.

Warmth creeps up on him through the chill of the lake. A fire; he remembers looking at it from the shore in a past life. The smell of meat; sizzling. He opens his eyes and turns his head. "Merlin."

Merlin smiles. "Welcome back."

* * *

**42.**

**Inspired by:** [Sound #4](https://soundcloud.com/cheesymess/walking-on-gravel-soundbible): walking on gravel  
 **Pairing:** Merlin/Arthur  
 **Warnings:** discussions of major character death

He's always been a solemn child. Even as a baby, he was prone to colic. All Merlin knows is that some days, he carries an emptiness beneath his breastbone that he rubs his knuckles against as he goes about his chores. And others, he feels like an overripe fruit, ready to burst. On those days, he creeps down to the river at night, feet careful over the slippery pebbles, and turns his face to the sky and cries until he's exhausted.

#

One day, they're washing laundry at the river when Merlin pulls up a red kerchief he doesn't recognize. Hunith pales, whispers, "Where did you get that? I gave it to your father, years ago."

A week later, travelers find his body and bring him home, a red wound across his belly.

#

The next summer, a group of knights ride into Ealdor and ask for Merlin. They inform him his presence is required at the king's court immediately.

Hunith wraps a red kerchief around his neck, kisses his cheek, and hugs him tight. Her eyes shine with tears, but Merlin's, for once, are dry.

#

In Camelot, he learns there's a name for what he is. _Bean-sidhe_ , a harbinger of death. Uther has one of his own, an old man named Gaius who's always at his side, so the King might know when his death draws near.

Merlin is given into the service of Prince Arthur, who is golden and proud and seems too strong to ever be struck down. Merlin wants to cry, the first time he looks at him.

#

He learns from Gaius that his grief is his gift, and that it never errs.

"Everybody dies," Gaius says. "But the time and the manner aren't set in stone. Some can be avoided. You won't feel a death until it's inevitable, until they've set themselves upon a course that cannot be changed."

#

"Is serving me that intolerable?"

Merlin startles. He hurts all the time now, and it cannot be confined to the dark hours of night when no one else is around to bear witness. He'd thought he was being circumspect about dashing the tears from his eyes, but Arthur stands behind him, fists on his hips, looking stern. "No," he gasps. "Your Highness, _no._ Don't think that." He may be the worst _bean-sidhe_ the court has seen in generations, but standing at Arthur's side still feels like where he's meant to be.

#

"Am I going to die, Merlin?" Arthur asks one night as Merlin's turning down his sheets.

Merlin freezes and feels that catch in his chest. "All men die, Highness."

Arthur gives him a look. "Am I going to die _soon?"_

"No," Merlin says, without thought, without stopping to consult his grief, because the thought's intolerable. _"No_."

Arthur wipes his cheeks dry. He looks thoughtful for a moment, and then he kisses Merlin, gentle and sweet. "Don't cry," he says against Merlin's mouth. "Not for me."

#

Arthur pushes Merlin down and bites his neck as he drives into him. Merlin cries out loud enough for the whole castle to hear, but he doesn't care. These moments, when Arthur moves in him and gasps against his skin, they're the only time Merlin feels anything at all besides grief.

Arthur's teeth dig into his skin, muffling his growl as he comes. When he closes his hand around Merlin's cock and drags him over the edge, Merlin throws his head back and laughs with giddy delirium.

Afterwards, Arthur lays on his back staring up at the canopy and the corners of his mouth curve. "I'm going to have to make you do that again," he says.

Merlin thinks he means come, but when Arthur rolls over and brushes his fingers over Merlin's mouth, he realizes what Arthur means is _laugh_.

#

Eventually, Merlin comes to realize the truth. Arthur is bold and steadfast, and he cares fiercely about his country, and it's going to be the death of him. He set himself on the path that will lead to his end long before Merlin even met him. No one can turn him from his course, now that he's chosen it.

And Merlin knows he'll stand at his side until that day comes, though every morning it breaks his heart anew, because Arthur's the best man Merlin knows and someone must bear witness to that.

And because Gaius said some deaths can be avoided, and Merlin will cling to that hope until the day he dies, or Arthur does.

* * *

**43.**

**Inspired by** : [Gif #4](http://i.imgur.com/3G2rMRQ.gif)  
 **Pairing** : Merlin/Arthur  
 **Warnings** : (accidental) bondage

Arthur lets himself into Merlin’s flat and promptly bursts out laughing.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up,” Merlin grumbles. He’s glaring at Arthur, but it’s impossible to take him seriously in the state he’s in.

“Merlin, you appear to be...a little tied up at the moment.” 

“I hate you,” Merlin says flatly. He shifts, tilting his neck to the side as if stretching out an ache.

“You don’t.” Arthur grins at him before shrugging off his coat and coming fully into the room. He contemplates the scene before him.

“Oh, trust me, I do.” 

“Do I even want to know how you ended up like this?”

Merlin sighs, tries to sit up straighter, and overbalances. He catches himself on the corner of the sofa with his left shoulder and manages to right himself again. Not bad for someone almost entirely tied up with rope.

“It’s for my act, okay? I was trying a new escape trick and...” 

“And you got stuck? God, Merlin, only you.” 

“I’m fucking sensational, shut up.” 

Arthur sits on the sofa and continues to watch Merlin struggle against his bonds. Arthur wonders what it says about him that he’s in love with this complete disaster of a human being.

“Is there any particular reason you’re naked?” he asks after a moment.

“It’s laundry day.”

Arthur outright laughs at that. 

“Look, are you going to laugh at me all night or are you going to help?” Merlin asks, tone aggrieved. 

“I don’t know, I quite like the sight of you all tied up,” Arthur smirks at him. Merlin’s eyes narrow. 

“Don’t you dare - ”

“Oh, alright, keep your knickers on,” Arthur says, moving to kneel in front of Merlin. “Especially as they’re all you’ve got left.” He stares at the knots. “You’ll have to tell me what to do here,” he adds. “I have no idea how you managed to get into this on your own.”

“I’m a stage magician, Arthur, it’s my _job_. Now, tug that one there,” Merlin gestures with his chin, “through the loop on my leg, and then at my hip. It should slide off from there.”

Arthur starts to obey, but there’s something hypnotic about the press of the rope against Merlin’s smooth skin, and Arthur can’t help but trail his fingers up Merlin’s thighs and along his sides, and when he brushes his nipple, Merlin shivers.

“Just - please,” he says tightly. 

Arthur grasps the rope and pulls it as gently as he can, starting when Merlin hisses, the rope pulling taut.

“Not that way, you _idiot_ ,” he groans. It’s not a holy-shit-that-hurt kind of groan though. It’s a groan Arthur’s grown well acquainted with over the last few months. He experimentally tugs the rope again and Merlin whimpers, and when he meets Arthur’s eyes, his own are dark.

Arthur stares, fascinated, at the red rope burn starting to spread across Merlin’s thigh where he’d pulled too tight. 

“You like this,” he says slowly, brushing his thumb along the red mark. 

“Arthur, please - ”

“What do you want?”

“Get me out of these, please, you can tie me up later if you want just, it’s been three hours, I need to - ”

Arthur’s brain catches on _tie me up later_ , but he obeys quickly. He can’t help the way the ropes slip across Merlin’s skin as he unknots them, or ignore the way Merlin bites his lips every time they do.

It seems to take an age, Merlin twitching and gasping every time Arthur touches him, clearly getting more and more turned on. This is definitely not how Arthur expected the evening to go.

He leans forward to kiss Merlin just as he slides the last knot free and Merlin collapses against him, whimpering, although whether from the pain or the pleasure Arthur isn’t sure. His hand finds Merlin’s cock and it only takes a few strokes to bring him off, Merlin’s face pressed into his neck as he comes.

“You’re the worst magician ever,” Arthur whispers, unable to stop the swell of affection as Merlin sighs against him.

“You’re the best,” Merlin mumbles nonsensically. He’s going to be asleep in five minutes, because he is utterly useless, so Arthur sighs, and, ignoring his own erection, half-carries Merlin to bed and tucks himself in behind him. 

“T’m’rr’w,” Merlin slurs, reaching back to pat Arthur’s hip. “Gonna rock your world.” 

“Go to sleep, Merlin.”

He’s answered with a snore.

* * *

**44.**

**Inspired by:** [Image #5](http://i.imgur.com/c2KgTyr.jpg)  
 **Pairing:** Arthur/Elyan  
 **Warnings:** implied scat

Arthur had a bit of a rep. Mildly put.

"What's wrong with him?" a girl asked at the party, leaning a bit too close to Elyan. She was close enough he could get some if he wanted, probably. She nodded at Arthur though, had her panties in her hand while Arthur frowned at his beer. Elyan shrugged. Fucked if he knew. She left.

"You might want to tone it down," Elyan said to Arthur later, when it was the two of them sitting in their kitchen in the halls. They were passing the time until the sun came up and they could have a fry-up and call it breakfast. The rest of their mates were passed out in Elyan's room. Arthur's was off-limits.

"I've no idea what you mean." Arthur stretched, smiled, played innocent. The light came in awkward and made him look twenty years older, bags under his eyes and lines around his mouth and all.

"They all think you're a perv. A freak."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Arthur shrugged. "It's art."

"Hardly."

The photos were on Arthur's walls: his cock in someone's pussy. girls peeing, boys taking a shit, then some things a little more out there with needles and wax and body parts that should never be that colour.

"I've no clue how you talk them into it," Elyan said. He knew though, before he'd even finished the sentence, before Arthur had looked up and smiled and said something about wanting to know everything about someone.Before Arthur had leaned in closer, hand on Elyan's cock, and talked about needing to see every last secret and how no one could hide anything like that, when they were open on his cock for him, how he saw everything.

He'd been off his rocker since Merlin fucked off, but he knew how to use his hands, and he knew to say the right words. A few minutes later the plan for the fry-up was pushed off the agenda, and Elyan was in Arthur's room with Percival and Gwaine and the lot of them just a wall away.

The walls were filled with polaroids. None of them were of Merlin. None of them had faces.

"Let me see," Arthur said, sounding equally five and thirty, naive and serial killer, and both curdled anticipation and nerves into uncomfortable arousal in Elyan's guts. Arthur directed him to undress, and Elyan did, until he stood naked, cock soft, hardening a little the longer Arthur stared at it, and unsure of what to do with his hands. 

They never talked about this when sober, and didn't talk much now when Arthur directed Elyan into the bathroom, as he sat on the toilet, jeans around his ankles and pulled Elyan onto his cock. He took photos as Elyan kissed at his dick, as he went down on it, easy. They'd done this before. Some photos were of Elyan, and he was sure some were of Percival and Gwaine and Leon, too. He'd never looked too closely.

"They don't usually like this," Arthur said. He pulled Elyan's chin up, looked into his eyes. "It freaks them out." He told Elyan to keep his eyes open as he sucked him down, directed Elyan's fingers to play with his arse, his lips to mouth at his balls. "What if I took a shit now?" Arthur said as Elyan fucked fingers into him and had his cock deep enough down Elyan's throat it made him cough and his eyes tear up.

Elyan pulled off and sat bare-arsed on the tiles across from Arthur, his own cock still soft, Arthur's hard and slick with Elyan's spit. He wouldn't have, not with him. Probably,

"I can't say I'm surprised they don't like it," Elyan said.

Arthur snapped another photo, slid the polaroid to Elyan across the tiles.

"Did Merlin like it?" Elyan ignored the photo inches from his toes.

Arthur's head snapped up. "It's not about him." He cocked his head though when Elyan pushed to his feet, stopped Elyan with his lips when Elyan wanted to push past him out of the room. Arthur sucked him in, rolled his limp dick over his tongue, lewd sounds and all, as he wriggled his tongue into the foreskin and teased.Then Arthur sat back on the toilet, legs still spread, camera in his hands..

"He had photos of me," Arthur said. "He knew everything about me, and I knew nothing. Never making that mistake again." 

As if that was explanation enough.

* * *

**45.**

**Inspired by:** [Gif #5](http://i.imgur.com/cM5FjDD.gif)  
 **Pairing:** Merlin/Arthur   
**Warnings:** The boys are 16-17 years old; facial

Merlin rubbed his cock through the rough denim of his jeans. He was hard already and knew it was evident when he spread his legs. He wasn’t going be shy about this, not today. With a smirk he readjusted himself, his cock tenting the fabric on his thigh. Arthur made a small sound as Merlin continued rubbing himself and Merlin smirked up at him again, shifting and sitting more comfortably on the sofa. He traced the outline of his cock with his fingers, letting Arthur appreciate what he had to offer. He was big, he knew that, and now Arthur knew it as well. Let him drool over his cock if he was so inclined on not participating. Merlin wasn’t going to make it easy for him.

He stroked firmly with his hand, letting his fingers slow down over the head of his cock and exhaling softly as they did so. He was about to get his jeans undone and get down to business when Arthur spoke.

“Merlin,” he said softly. As Merlin looked at him, he bit his lip, either wondering about what to say next or regretting that he ever opened his mouth. Making up his mind, he lifted his chin up. “Let me.”

Merlin raised his eyebrows and let his hands fall to his sides in a silent invitation. Arthur got his hands out of his pockets and moved the small table a few inches away from the sofa so he could kneel before Merlin. At that, Merlin’s breath caught for a second, because Arthur Fucking Pendragon was actually on his knees before him, but he composed himself quickly, allowing himself only a small groan. Arthur didn’t look up to meet his eyes. His gaze was fixed on Merlin’s cock as he traced it with his fingers lightly – a teasing, fleeting touch. He mimicked Merlin’s firmer movements for a second before leaning in and feeling it with his lips, gently grazing his teeth along the denim. Merlin made a choked sound and lifted his hips lightly, only to receive a glare from Arthur as he pinned them back down. 

Arthur’s hands then slid to the hem of Merlin’s jeans and he undid a button, then another one. Soon he was pulling them down and Merlin was allowed to lift his bum for a second in order to get rid of them. 

Arthur only pushed them down to his knees before mouthing at Merlin’s cock through his pants, groaning softly as he did so. Merlin bit his lips so words wouldn’t slip past them and ran his fingers though Arthur’s hair, encouraging him silently. With his other hand he pushed the elastic band of his underwear down, getting his cock out. Arthur licked his lips.

“Have you ever— oh, you have,” Merlin finished breathily as Arthur took him in his mouth without hesitation, licking around the shaft as he swallowed more and more of it. “Fuck, you’re good at this,” he whispered. Arthur groaned around him. “What was that?” Merlin chuckled and Arthur moved away..

“Shut up,” Arthur said before licking Merlin’s cock from base to tip, doing something with his tongue that left Merlin whining.

“Nah, don’t think so,” he said. “I like talking. I bet you like it, too.” Arthur grunted wordlessly and swallowed as much of Merlin as he could. “Yeah, fuck,” Merlin whimpered, trying to stay still and not choke Arthur. “So good. Done this a lot, have you? Been stretching your pretty lips around your friends for a while,” he went on. Arthur’s hand was moving in front of his own trousers, and he kept moaning softly around Merlin as he bobbed his head up and down. He did like it. Merlin bit his lip. “I bet you look so pretty with come all over that face.” Arthur let out a moan that sounded suspiciously like “Mm-hmm” and Merlin swore under his breath, pushing Arthur off himself with a hand in his hair and stroking his cock quickly. Arthur leaned in to lick the tip lightly, his eyes closing in the anticipation. Merlin groaned as he felt himself stumbling towards the edge and grunted Arthur’s name as he spilled all over him, come catching on his left cheekbone and his full lips and sliding down to his neck. With a moan Arthur continued cleaning Merlin’s dick from the come, his orgasm making him stutter right when Merlin was starting to feel a tad too sensitive for it to be enjoyable anymore.

* * *

**46.**

**Inspired by:** [Gif #5](http://i.imgur.com/cM5FjDD.gif)  
 **Pairing:** Merlin/Arthur  
 **Warnings:** age is not mentioned in the story but both are 17

An oddity for his age, Merlin loved the school library. He loved the musty smell of old books and the hum of the ancient computers the school was too cheap to replace. He loved being able to sit in peace and revise away from the rabble of his peers. But he was finding it difficult to enjoy the library this particular afternoon because today he wasn't alone. Today the unfortunately gorgeous Arthur Pendragon, captain of the football team and self-appointed king of the school had decided to join him.

" _It's a Friday for fuck's sake, don't you have anything better to do?_ " he thought viciously at Arthur. Until today, he hadn't even been sure Arthur could read. But now, as he looked across the floor to where Arthur was sitting (and yes, he had chosen to sit facing Merlin to be even more of a prat) he saw him looking at his textbook like it was the most fascinating thing in the world and diligently taking notes.

Merlin gave an exaggerated sigh and tapped his pencil against the desk loudly, hoping it would be irritating enough to make Arthur leave. Arthur looked up and smirked at him. He pressed one finger over his lips and pointed at the 'SILENCE' sign, waggling his eyebrows pointedly before turning back to his book. Merlin gave up and attempted to go back to his own revising. This plan worked for all of two minutes before a rustling sound broke Merlin's concentration. Frustrated, he looked around for the source and promptly lost all other brain function.

Arthur Pendragon - gorgeous, annoying, out-of-his-league Arthur Pendragon - was stroking himself in the middle of the library. Merlin's jaw dropped as he watched the slide of Arthur's thumb and the walk of his fingers against his swiftly hardening cock. His eyes were still focused on the book in front of him but he clearly wasn't paying much attention to it as a barely audible moan escaped his lips. Without warning, he started stroking faster, sagging into the chair and letting his head fall back. His breath came out in short pants as he rubbed harder, grinding the heel of his palm down, desperately seeking more friction.

Merlin watched in rapture until he became painfully aware of his own cock pushing against the front of his jeans. " _This is stupid, we're going to get caught, Arthur is going to remember where he is and punch me, fuck, this is the dumbest thing I've ever done_ ," raced through his mind as he reached down and rubbed the front of his bulge tentatively. He closed his eyes and tried to relax into the feeling before an overwhelming wave of panic surged over him and he jerked his hand away. Anxiously, he whipped his head around looking for an escape route but an undisguised groan made him look back at Arthur. Arthur, who now had his cock out of his trousers and was looking like the wettest of Merlin's wet dreams, eyes blissed out and lips red from biting. The tip of his tongue licked over his plump bottom lip and Merlin's last coherent thought was " _fuck it_ " before he shoved his hand down his own pants and started pumping furiously.

The combination of watching Arthur fuck into his hand and knowing anyone could walk in on them at any time edged Merlin towards completion faster that watching any porno ever had. Arthur was coming undone, chest rising and falling rapidly, hair curling at the base of his neck from sweat. Merlin took in the sight greedily, watching Arthur's thumb ring glint in the florescent lighting as Arthur worked it swiftly along his length. His moaning changed to a needy whine and Arthur suddenly tipped his head forward and looked straight into Merlin's eyes. Merlin panicked momentarily but watched as Arthur sped his strokes up, adding a twist at the head, and came in long spurts, all the while keeping his eyes locked on Merlin's. 

Startled, Merlin came with a gasp, coating his hand and pants. With his clean hand, he rummaged around in his book bag for something, _anything_ to clean himself up with when a pack of tissues landed on his table. He looked up and saw Arthur smirking at him over his shoulder as he sauntered out of the library. His face rapidly turning red, Merlin reached for the tissues and found a sticky note attached to the top. _07637-887-457 - text me tonight for round two_.

* * *

**47.**

**Inspired by:** [Sound #2-thunderstorm](https://soundcloud.com/cheesymess/thunder)   
**Pairing:** Morgana/Mordred  
 **Warnings:** a/o/b dynamics, unprotected sex

The thunder rumbles overhead, wind rustling the leaves of the trees above her head. The sky is dark with the promise of rain and she can scent it in the air around her as she walks. Her long black hair hangs over her shoulder as she strolls--naked, expectant--through the forest. She knows the smell of the omegas, has it branded into her very being, but she does not stop walking.

Her steps take her to a clearing in the forest. A river runs to the right, framed by the trees that sway in the wind. There is the alpha in her veins and the power sings through her blood as the rain starts to fall. Lighting flashes in the sky, and were she younger, had she less power, she would howl her desire to the clouds. There is a crack of thunder, the soft pitter patter of rain hitting the ground. The wind changes direction and she smells him.

She finds the black haired boy, Mordred, wet and panting by the edge of the clearing. He smells like she wants him too, easy, pliant, so very willing. 

His eyes are wide as she lengthens her strides, the grass catching the backs of her ankles. 

"Morgana," he whispers as she nears.

He is already on his back when she reaches him, her feet planted on either side of him. He smells like power, and she is hungry for him, for what is about to happen. His power is hers and his hard cock is hers, to sate her and fill her. 

"Don't speak," she warns, the alpha growling in her voice.

Mordred is quiet, his arms by his side, eyes downcast. Morgana likes him this way, obedient, smelling sweet. She likes them young, likes them with hard cocks that rub and stretch her. She sits on his cock, her knees by his hips, her hands on his chest.

He does not touch her, because she is his queen, but more than that, she is his alpha. 

"Good boy," Morgana tells him.

Mordred closes his eyes, his black lashes stark against his white skin. The rain falls on them, slicking their bodies together. It's so very easy for Morgana to slide up his leg, rubbing herself against his knee. He will smell like her for days when she is done with him. Her beautiful boy. She will own him.

There are howls in the distance, her pack echoing her desire. Their voices ride up her spine, make her sink down on Mordred's hard cock. She throws her head back as she rides him, his cock wet and leaking inside her. She takes him fast, her hips working to find a pace she likes. She uses him until she comes, her nails digging into his chest until he screams.

She will mark him, touch every bit of skin she can find until all he knows is her fingernails on his chest. And he will fill her to the brim until she overflows, until his seed runs down her legs. He will give her that and more, but not today.

The clouds thunder over their heads as she comes a second time on Mordred's cock, her eyes flashing gold, then red. He is panting beneath her, his eyes wide with desire, his cock still hard in her. She smiles at him, her grin feral at his whimper when she stands.

She leaves the clearing with Mordred's pleads echoing behind her. She knows he will not come until she tells him he can, and if he's good. If she comes back and he is where she left him, she will let him.

* * *

**48.**

**Inspired by:** [Sound #2](https://soundcloud.com/cheesymess/thunder)  
 **Pairing:** Arthur/Merlin  
 **Warnings:** none

White lightning erupted around them, bright flashes illuminating the alabaster skin writing above him, pressing down- harder, faster, _more_. Thunder rolled through their flat, guiding the roll of Merlin’s hips grinding against him. His own gasps and cries swallowed by the sounds of a raging sky. The Heavens in thunderous turmoil, a war of light and sound, winners never crowned, battles aching to be fought again, all in search of the fleeting ecstasy at the heart of the storm. The flash of power as it thrummed through their bodies; the air shaking around them sharing the moment that it helped create.

That moment seemed so far away, elusive, yet they strove to reach it- the eye of the storm. Their bodies fit together perfectly- a rumble of thunder, loud and strong, and a crash of lightning powerful in its silence; two forces of nature inseparable from one another. It was always like this with them, wild like thunder and lightning, passionate like the match to a flame, tender like the rolling waves against the sand.

Electrical currents teased his body as Merlin’s deft fingers danced over his flesh, making him feel a live and awed. Merlin did this to him, took him to this place, this exquisite other world where they _were_ everything. And just like every match that was struck, every wave to reach its apex, every clap of thunder pierced by jagged shafts of lightning, they would reach their pinnacle together.

Arthur could feel it, a rumbling tingling at his toes, crawling through his fingers where he grasped Merlin’s hips. Thunder and lightning- it was getting close now. He pushed up, thrusting deeper and deeper striving for the eye of this storm raging between them. Pounding. Thrumming. Skin sweat-slick against skin, muscles vibrating with the intensity of a well strung violin, waiting, wanting to shake apart with the power.

Above him, Merlin flowed with the thunder, his body undulating to its chaotic rhythm, meeting every thrust, every cant of hips. Roaring with the crash of sound as Arthur nudged and pressed into that spot that sent tendrils of lightning shooting deliciously through Merlin’s body.

Thunder and lightning growing closer and closer to singularity, light and sound overlapping, not yet one, but a continuous litany of cries and pulses, one leading inexorably to the other, mingling with twin cries of pleasure; only silenced when sensuous, kiss-swollen lips met, devouring lovers’ sounds as surely and swiftly as they devoured each other. Hunger of the flesh, hunger of the spirit; demanding more, rushing towards a crescendo to match any the renting skies above could offer.

Merlin’s head flew back, ecstasy etched on his face and Arthur’s name a howl pouring from his lips. Lightning and thunder crashed as one. Arthur’s strong, loving arms closed around Merlin’s body as he fell forward, boneless and spent, spasming around Arthur’s cock, his body eagerly accepting the offering he gave him. The heart of the storm. The strike of the match. The crash of the wave.

Ozone lingered in the air, the night awash with light and sound as the storm still raged; its epicentre drifting further and further away. But in this room, in this bed only the light of their eyes and the sound of their sweet words pierce the night.

* * *

**49.**

**Inspired by:** [Image #4](http://i.imgur.com/5Hy8VB3.jpg)  
 **Pairing:** Gwen/Lancelot (post-series)

Gwen rides out alone, leaves her clothes draped over low-hanging branches and steps into the lake.

She treads water, her arms search beneath the surface.

“Where are you?”

There is only need to ask and she never has to wait long. Gwen feels the water surrounding her change and slide around her body. It supports her hips, pushes up against her shoulders so she’s able to float comfortably. Her head leans back, her hair flows out in the water. Her fingers brush against something which curls around her touch.

As her eyes drift shut, Gwen parts her legs.

The water ripples against her. Gently runs up her thighs, laps at her folds. It beats slowly, like a heartbeat, steady and docile.

“Come on,” she whispers. “I won’t break.”

The push wraps around her hips. A watery tendril or a tongue or _something_ goes up inside her. Gwen’s back arches as her chest swells with a gasp. It moves steadily, swishes, strokes, like the steadily rhythm of the tide against the shore. It drags slowly up, over her clit and Gwen drives her hips towards it.

Suddenly Gwen’s fingers settle on something .The hold against her body vanishes when she submerges herself.

The lake’s waters are murky and it stings to hold her eyes open against it. But Gwen can see him. 

Lancelot is in the water. It moves through him, flows to his movements but it’s _him_. 

Gwen reaches out and her fingers settle on his shoulder.

She pulls herself against Lancelot, the water curls around her again. It holds her tenderly and she feels Lancelot through all of it. And it’s the curve of his neck beneath her fingers, his chest which her breasts press against and his hip she slides her leg around.

It’s Lancelot she kisses and she almost cries out when he pushes up inside her. It’s still steady, still strong, still so gentle. But now it’s Lancelot more than it’s the lake. She clings to him, keeps their lips together, fights against the urge to cry out. Lancelot follows the rhythm she sets with the roll of her hips, flows along to her movements. 

One moment she feels her lungs begin to burn and then the afternoon sun warms her shoulders as Lancelot bursts through the lake’s surface and onto the land. With her back on the ground, Gwen tightens her hold and she _feels_ him. Winding her fingers through his hair, Gwen kisses him again and it makes her heart race. She pushes her hips up and wraps her legs around him. 

_“More!”_

Lancelot pushing against her meets the buck of her hips and Gwen arches her back, lets the sensation spike up her body and leave her mouth in a soft cry. Her fingers scrape down his back, feels his fluid movements against her, with her, deeper and deeper inside her.

One of Lancelot’s hands keeps a firm grasp to one of her hips, pulls her against him as he thrusts forward. His body arches into her touch, fingers thread through her hair, he turns his head to meet her when she goes to kiss him. 

Her name pours from Lancelot’s mouth and Gwen pulls him down, presses his lips to her throat, feels them move against her skin, wants his whispers of how he loves her to burn against her flesh.

She’s close, lets Lancelot guide her movement. Her legs tighten around him, takes him all the way inside her.

As she drags her fingers down his back, he shudders and then ripples beneath her touch. The sensation trembles through him and Gwen feels it. Everything tightens and shivers and Gwen’s back arches. Her eyes close and she cries out as she feels that coiling heat release and crash through her body.

What pulls her back is Lancelot jolting sharply against her. A chill clutches Gwen when she realises that his body now convulses in pain. He growls against her neck, his fists clench in the dirt.

“Gwen, I can’t. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she says. But he’s already gone, retreated back into the water he’s bound to. 

Gwen sits up, feels the sun warm on her back. Her naked state isn’t something she worries about. Even if Lancelot can’t leave the lake, he’ll make sure she remains safe beside it.

Dipping one hand into the water she feels a press against her palm.

“I’ll get you back,” she promises.

* * *

**50.**

**Inspired by:** [Image #4](http://i.imgur.com/5Hy8VB3.jpg)  
 **Pairing:** Arthur/Merlin  
 **Warnings:** Semi-public sex. Slight dub-con. Both characters are over the age of consent.

"Your sister's hot," Merlin said, glancing at Arthur sideways, his tongue flicking out to wet his lips after Morgana peeled out of the driveway in her red convertible. They were both in only swimming trunks and sitting on the edge of the pool, feet dangling in the water.

Arthur scowled, and without warning tackled him into the water, pushing his head down deep as Merlin fought against him. He came up with choking, gasping breaths, for just a few scant seconds before Arthur pushed him down again, hands firm on his shoulders as Merlin struggled against him, flailing. 

Eyes screwed shut, he couldn't _breathe_ , and suddenly Arthur's lips were on his, his body pressing against Merlin's, and he stopped struggling. Merlin still couldn't breathe, but Arthur's lips were insistent against his, his hips pressing forwards into Merlin's, and a small bit of air slipped into Merlin's mouth, a little water too.

Merlin found his feet under him and broke the kiss, kicking to the surface, gasping and spitting in the fresh air.

"Bastard," was all he could say, before Arthur was on him again, shoving him against the rough of the pool wall and kissing him, lips wet and tongue delving deep into Merlin's mouth, licking him open, lewd and slutty. 

Arthur's thumbs pressed against Merlin's hipbones, pinning him against the side as he gasped away from the kiss, catching his breath. Arthur kissed him on the jaw instead, and then licked the at the drops of water beading on his neck.

Shaky, Merlin reached behind him, trying to hoist himself out of the pool. Arthur helped, but stopped him when he was sitting on the edge, leaning forward to rub his face against Merlin's growing erection through the wet cling of his swimming trunks. 

"You taste like chlorine," Arthur mumbled and Merlin rolled his eyes, threading his fingers through Arthur's wet hair and tugging gently. Arthur ran his lips over the head of Merlin's cock through his trunks and sucked, making Merlin moan and clutch at Arthur's shoulders with his thighs.

"Yeah," Arthur pulled away to say shakily. "Back up will you."

Merlin pulled away out of the water completely, scooting backward to the soft grass in the shade of the privacy hedges, ignoring the little scratches that the concrete left on his skin.

Arthur pulled himself out of the pool by his arms before crawling over Merlin to press their hips together. Merlin rolled his hips up as Arthur settled against him, making them both moan as their cocks rubbed together.

Arthur kissed him again, and Merlin grappled at his hips and ass, pulling their cocks together as he rolled his hips upwards. Arthur smirked against him before interlocking their legs to hump down on Merlin's thigh. The firm muscle on top of his cock was delicious as Merlin writhed upwards, whimpering as Arthur bit him on the neck.

"Tease," Merlin gasped out, and dug his fingernails into Arthur's bare sides as Arthur sucked hard.

Arthur pulled away, a challenge glinting in his eyes, leaning down to yank down Merlin's shorts so his cock could pop free, flushed red and fully hard.

Arthur's hand was still wet from the pool as he wrapped it around Merlin's cock for two long pulls, before wrapping his lips around the head and suckling, making Merlin whine and pant beneath him with little flicks of his tongue. 

"Arthur," Merlin groaned, hips arching up before Arthur pinned them with an arm and took him deeper, tongue swirling patterns on the underside, his mouth a wet, hot suck of pure ecstasy to his dick. 

Merlin cried out when he felt Arthur run his fingers over his drawn-up-tight balls, squeezing gently, and then Merlin tapped frantically on his shoulder, hips twitching upwards. Arthur met his eyes and deliberately sank deeper on his dick as Merlin's eyes fluttered closed, his orgasm shuddering silently through him, making his toes curl, legs drawing up. 

Arthur licked at him softly as he came down until Merlin pushed him away, hissing. He opened his eyes to see Arthur on his side with his hand down his shorts, stroking himself off in fast pulls.

Merlin lazily crawled forward, ignoring the shorts around his knees, to push Arthur's trunks down further. He leaned in to lay a kiss to the base of Arthur's dick, just under the movement of Arthur's hand, dragging his tongue softly over Arthur's balls as Arthur cried out and came all over his stomach with a jerk.

* * *

**51.**

**Inspired by:**[Image #3](http://i.imgur.com/XFkVoo4.jpg)  
 **Pairing:** Merlin/Arthur  
 **Warnings:** BDSM themes

The sight of Merlin's pale arse, pink, rosy, and clenched in anticipation of the next blow, never failed to leave Arthur rock hard and wanting. A masochist to the core, Merlin screamed and writhed and moaned so filthily with each strike that Arthur was always torn. He could lay into his Merlin again just to watch him grunt and shudder, or he could abandon the cane altogether in favor of fucking Merlin over whatever piece of furniture his lover was currently thrown over. It was always a struggle his cock and the sadist in him, and Arthur loved that neither of them ever came out the loser no matter who won. 

"What number is that, Merlin?"

_'Seven...'_

"And how many do we have left?"

_'Three...'_

Arthur doesn't hold back his grin at the breathless quivering tone of Merlin's voice. It's a stark contrast to the subtle shift in his stance as his lover spreads his legs a little wider, a reminder to Arthur of just how much Merlin loves this. 

Not just the pain, but _this_. His body stripped and draped over Arthur's knees. No implements in sight, just Arthur's bare hand flashing against his skin. Merlin is always extra obedient when he knows it may result in a turn across Arthur's lap. 

Arthur doesn't have to look at his lover's face to know exactly how wrecked he looks. He's seen Merlin like this often enough, panting and flushed, his fringe clinging wetly to the tracks that tears have left behind. He knows the fire singing through Merlin's veins because its complement is currently racing through his own and Arthur feels high in a way that no drug can ever replicate. Every whimper is a shot of adrenalin straight to his system and every open scream sings through him like electricity, satisfaction and temptation all at once, and he's mad with it. 

"That's my good boy."

Arthur's voice has lost its stern tone and he croons the words, practically cooing, and there's no discrepancy there because they're a more effective tool than any paddle or strap. Merlin whimpers softly and all the tension melts from his body, leaving him pliant and utterly receptive to whatever Arthur is about to dish out. 

Arthur can't see Merlin's cock where it's pressed uncomfortably against the pillow that Arthur used to prop up his hips but he knows that Merlin is still hard. He hasn't been given permission to come and he'll stay hard like that as long as Arthur demands. 

Arthur brings his hand down on Merlin's arse again, hissing at the recoil as his palm lights up with pain but smiling all the same as Merlin grunts and rocks his hips gently. 

"Don't you dare come."

As he says it, he brings his hand down again and Merlin cries out, trembling before going still against him. Arthur doesn't say anything. He just waits. 

And there it is. Tiny mewling cries that slowly become outright sobs. 

_'I'm sorry...'_

When Arthur says nothing, Merlin repeats himself over and over, the words quickly running together and slurring as he cries harder and harder. 

"You aren't sorry yet. But you will be."

Merlin doesn't stop crying but his legs spread a little wider and Arthur grins.

* * *

**52.**

**Inspired by:** [Sound #3](https://soundcloud.com/cheesymess/stag)  
 **Pairing:** Merlin/ Arthur  
 **Warnings:** None

Arthur had been deer stalking for most of the morning before he finally set his sights on his prey, the young buck he’d been tracking in his riffles path. So long as he remained fairly still and quiet, each action precise in its movement, Arthur reckoned the kill was his.

Or at least it was until an attractive _fool_ , with midnight hair and full lips, had burst into the clearing, startling both the deer and Arthur in turn.

“What the hell are you doing?” the stranger asked, glaring at Arthur with a clear look of outrage as Arthurs prize vanished into the wilderness. “You could have shot that poor deer!”

“Well…” started Arthur before pausing to give the incompetent idiot enough time to supply his name.

“Merlin.”

With a name like Merlin the man was probably a hippy. 

“Well _Mer_ lin, I think that was rather the _point_ ,” Arthur snorted, sidling into Merlins personal space whilst glaring in an intimidating manner, “Also you’re trespassing. Please leave.”

“No, this is the Forest of Essetir. I was just at a protest so I _know_ this is Essetir,” the idiot insisted, eyes bright in protest.

Yep, this ‘Merlin’ was definitely a hippie. 

“I’m Arthur Pendragon,” Arthur announced with a certain amount of pomp, “And I can tell you that you’re on my private estate. The forest of Essetir ended half a mile back. Now go away.”

Arthur turned away from the idiots fine features, determined to ensure the day wasn’t a complete loss by shooting at least some fowl on the way back to the manor, when he felt Merlin grab his wrist and heard a lock click into place.

“What the hell are you doing?!” Arthur bellowed in disbelief, too late to stop Merlin from tethering them together via handcuff, but not too late to notice Merlin palming the key to his freedom in his hand.

“Saving more innocent creatures from the likes of you!” Merlin shouted, deflecting Arthur’s free arm from retrieving the key with his body before panicking and shoving it into his underwear.

Arthur shot a lecherous grin in Merlins direction. “Oh Merlin, you really don’t think that will stop me, do you?”

A look of alarm crossed Merlins features. “If you so much as lay a finger on me below the waist, I’ll scream rape!”

“Really Merlin, You’re going to cheapen a serious term like rape on whatever ridiculous circus act you’ve turned this into?” Arthur mocked, “For shame!” 

“Shut up! You are not the moral superior in this situation. You were about to shoot Bambi.”

“Oh, get over it! Are you aware that Albion is drastically over populated with wild deer?” Arthur asked; the timber of his voice deep and low as if it were stalking Merlin for its prey. Merlin skittered, his gaze locked upon Arthur's, as he unconsciously retreated like a bird taking flight. Each step he took to escape Arthur failing in its infancy as Arthur followed, attached to his quarry by both chain and desire.

Merlin kept withdrawing rearward until they came to a sudden stop, his back arched up against an ancient elm tree, unchained hand resting against Arthur’s chest as if unsure whether to push him away or grip him closer. 

Arthur leant forward to steal a kiss, Merlin melting into his arms.

“No, no, no, no, no,” Merlin muttered breaking his mouth free from Arthur’s own and resting his head against Arthur's shoulder. “This is just a ploy to get the key”.

“Maybe it is and maybe it isn’t,” Arthur said pragmatically, “The question you have to ask yourself right now is: Do you really care?”

And Merlin really, really didn’t.

He wrapped his free around Arthur’s neck, tangling fingers into golden locks, as he pulled Arthur forward into a scorching kiss, the heat of a supernova burning between them, bodies craving release.

Merlin moaned into the kiss as Arthur struggled with the zip of their jeans, freeing their erections into the open air as they rubbed against each other in an attempt to gain friction.

Merlin brought their joined hands to his mouth, nipping at Arthur’s fingertips before licking across his palm in one sensual movement. 

Arthur groaned at the sight as they rutted together harder, precum spreading between; one of his hands curled tightly against Merlin’s hip as he yanked his bound hand free of Merlin’s ministrations to wrap around their dicks and seek absolute completion. 

***

“Great,” Arthur grouched as he peppered kisses along Merlin's bare collar bone, “The best wank of my life and it’s with a _hippy_ named _Mer_ lin in the middle of a bloody _forest_.”

“Mmmhhhmm,” Merlin agreed distractedly scanning their surroundings as if he expected a deer to appear from behind some shrubbery and shout boo.

“I’m probably going to smell like patchouli for a week—“

“Hey Arthur,” Merlin broke in, interrupting bemused ramblings. Arthur paused in his worship of Merlin's collar bones to glance up at him in acknowledgement. “Do you know what happened to the key?”

* * *


	3. Group C (warnings)

**53.**

Inspired by: [Gif #2](http://i.imgur.com/injACeD.gif)  
Pairing(s): Merlin/Arthur  
Warning(s): underage (Arthur is 17, Merlin is 16), prostitution (canon-era)

This, Arthur thinks, was one of Grandaunt Owena’s worst birthday gift ideas. A night at _The Dancing Maid’s_ , paid in advance and good for half a year, presented to him _in front of his father_. The very thought makes him curdle in embarrassment.

He’d been putting it off for the longest time, waiting until the last week that the payment was good for; waste not, want not, his late nurse had always told him, bless her soul. 

That’s the only reason why he’s here (of course), in front of this godforsaken pleasure house with its gaudy signboard (which boldly proclaims it’s “the best pleasure house in all of Albion” in an untidy hand). 

“Welcome, Pr—” 

Arthur shushes the proprietress, impatient, and furtively looks around. No one seems to have noticed, to his relief. 

There’s a girl at the end of the line who reminds him too much of Morgana, and he blanches, discomfited. He refuses them and asks if there is anybody else. The proprietress eyes him carefully, then nods. 

He ends up in a medium-sized room at the back and a man—boy, really—who looks about as servile as an rebel leader. 

***

“Good day,” Arthur says stiffly.

The boy bursts into a peal of giggles.

“Good day,” he says. “If we could get to the fucking, sir, it would be.”

Arthur bristles but stands at the foot of the bed, discomfited. He asks for a name because it seems rude not to. It’s obviously a fake name— _Merlin_. Who names their child after a bird?

Merlin huffs, pulling him to the bed.

“Your first time?” he asks, undoing the laces of his breeches, and slips his tunic off easily. He’s already stiff and red, like he’d prepared himself before Arthur came.

Arthur stares. He’s pale all over, but not delicate. Wiry. When they finally fall into the bed together, he jolts a little. Merlin is hot like a furnace.

“My first with a boy,” he confesses, shy. His first had been an early fumbling with a maid he loved the summer he was fifteen, a quiet girl named Gwen.

Merlin smiles at him, and the awkwardness of the encounter breaks. Arthur’s offered his vulnerability and Merlin’s accepted it like a gift.

Then, cockily, “Well, kiss me then.”

It startles a laugh out of him and he complies, opening his mouth over Merlin’s. His mouth is hot just like the rest of him, hot and wet. They share breaths, and their tongues curl around each other. Arthur rubs his cock on Merlin’s thigh like a dog, back and forth. It’s delicious friction, and he can feel himself getting bigger the more he rubs.

But friction is not enough and Merlin reaches for Arthur’s cock.

“Put it in me, before I force myself upon you,” he says, grinning. “I’m already wet. _Inside_.”

Arthur bats his hands away and checks; yes, he is slippery and soft inside, just like a girl. Primed for his cock. It makes his heart thud faster, eager for the fuck.

Carefully, he aligns himself and pushes forward. There’s a resounding moan from Merlin, and he gasps. He’d forgotten how good it felt to sink himself into warm flesh. There’s a pause, and he hears now, how loud their panting is in the stillness of the room.

Then Merlin grips harder on his back, urging him to move, and he does, his hips snapping in and out in sharp bursts.

“Arthur,” Merlin begs as they’re close to climax. His nails dig into Arthur’s back and slide down, and the little welts of pain that Arthur feels pushes him over. Merlin reaches between them, his fingers closing around his cock, jerking hurriedly until he comes.

He’s sex-sated and sleepy, but he makes the cursory effort to get off Merlin, wincing as he pulls out. Merlin sighs and lets his legs fall open. He looks obscene like that, with Arthur’s come oozing out from his hole, stark against the red puffiness of it. It’s tempting, and Arthur pushes a finger in, scooping out some come before licking it. Then he sniffs his finger.

“Bacon,” he whispers, confused.

Merlin looks up at him from his sprawl, cheeks flushed, then turns to glance at the cup of oil on the side table.

“Round two?” he asks hurriedly, his voice high.

Not such a terrible gift after all, Arthur decides later.

* * *

**54.**

**Inspired by:** [Image #4](http://i.imgur.com/5Hy8VB3.jpg)  
 **Pairing:** Arthur/Merlin  
 **Warnings:** None

Arthur waited on the beach as he always did. He arrived at daybreak and sat at the water’s edge. Watching and waiting. His heart thrummed as there wasn’t much longer now. 

Finally, he saw a ripple smoothing across the water. Arthur sprang to his feet, his heart singing at the sight. Merlin emerged slowly, water streaming over his lithe bare body as it rose from the sea. Arthur stepped into the shallows, and a smile blossomed on Merlin’s face when he saw Arthur waiting for him. 

364 days of waiting were worth it in a mere instant. 

“Arthur…,” Hearing Merlin’s voice and then having Merlin in his arms made Arthur whole again. Arthur gasped his name as his lips kissed the first skin he found. Merlin’s lips met his quickly, equally starved for the other’s taste. They kissed deeply and swiftly enough to make up for lost time, until all was banished but each other and the joy they shared. 

The waves peeled away from their feet as Merlin pushed them towards the dry beach. He tried to maneuver Arthur out of his clothes, but their inability to stop kissing or let go of each other made it difficult. Finally, Arthur’s state of undress matched Merlin’s and they tumbled to the sand together. 

The joy of reunion erupted into desperate lust, fueled by the drug of skin on skin. Arthur sat up so Merlin could straddle him, and he pulled Merlin close, his mouth still seeking Merlin’s neck and lips and whatever it could reach. Arthur was already hard, but the pressure of Merlin’s body grinding down into Arthur’s lap was nearly unbearable. 

Merlin gasped his name when Arthur’s fingers, then cock found his entrance. Soon they were moving together in the sand, Merlin’s hands clutching Arthur’s shoulders as Arthur’s hands helped guide him. Each push inside Merlin was like coming home again, aching emptiness finally being filled. Merlin’s lips tasted like salt water, and the dampness that clung to him soon spread to Arthur’s skin as the movements of Arthur’s hips met each rock of Merlin’s body in a perfectly matched pas de deux. When Arthur came, Merlin gasped loudly and threw his head back, like a dying man finally finding sustenance. 

Arthur folded Merlin into his arms as they laid back in the sand.

“You know I wait every year, every single day, until the day I can come see you,” Merlin murmured against his skin. “Part of me is always scared you won’t be here, that something will have changed…”

Arthur’s arms tightened. “I’m yours, always.” 

It had been true since the day they’d met. A nighttime swim had turned treacherous, until a beautiful boy had appeared from the depths and brought Arthur back to shore. Since then, Arthur could have no other lover. 

Arthur had more he wanted to say, but Merlin rose and pulled him towards the water. Merlin kissed him deeply in the shallows, imbuing his human with enough magic so Arthur could breathe below the surface. 

Underwater, their bodies entwined again. This time, Merlin held Arthur, kissing him and smoothing his hands along his face as he entered him. In the depths where Merlin belonged, Arthur clung to him, shuddering as Merlin’s hands found his cock and they climaxed together. 

“Merlin,” Bubbles raced up from Arthur’s lips. “You know I love you, that I ache every day we’re apart.” Merlin nodded in sympathy, until Arthur added, “I can’t bear it anymore.” Arthur’s hands tightened along Merlin’s skin. “I need to be with you, always.”

“You know what will happen, you know why you can’t…”

Arthur silenced him with a soft kiss. “I can’t live a world apart from you anymore. It means nothing.”

Emotions battled in Merlin’s eyes.

“Please, Merlin.” 

“You know this can never be undone.”

Arthur nodded. “I know it also means we’ll finally be together.”

Slowly, Merlin started to smile. He kissed Arthur again and whispered one more word of love before his hands grew hot with magic. He placed one over Arthur’s heart, and Arthur closed his eyes. 

His body started to weaken, but Merlin held him safe and close. Merlin stroked a hand through his hair, knowing that soon, Arthur would be his in every sense of the word. There would never be another soul like Arthur’s, and Merlin would never need another. Arthur sank deeper, and Merlin descended with him. The last thing Arthur saw was Merlin’s face watching over him, and Merlin’s lips tasted the last wisp of air that left his lungs.

* * *

**55.**

**Inspired by:**[Image #2](http://i.imgur.com/TrLTbYH.jpg)  
 **Pairing:** Gwen/Morgana, Morgana/Morgause (nb not sisters here so no incest)  
 **Warnings:** Bondage, references to sexual assault

It's Gwen's first bondage shoot.

“We'll keep it simple,” says Morgana, hands all animated. “Just plain rope and a quick tie.”

Morgana is the photographer; Morgause is her partner – Gwen is not sure if romantic or business – and until now Gwen had been assuming Morgause did something behind the scenes, like accounting or PR.

“Morgause is my rope-meister,” says Morgana with a quick smile. Morgause rolls her eyes and begins to unwind a coil of rope.

Gwen shucks off her robe and kneels on the mattress. She raises her arms in preparation, but it takes Morgause a while to check the rope and they begin to sag.

The camera snaps. “For the behind-the-scenes section.” Morgana's lilting Irish voice is ever-soothing.

The last shoot Gwen had done, they'd painted her face up with too much eye-liner, made her wear a too-tight red bikini, and the cameraman had kept cupping her breasts without asking. Gwen had not wanted to do it again after that – but she needed the money.

Morgana and Morgause were all friendly and business-like. Morgana was in a waistcoat and big glasses, the kind of photographer Gwen wouldn't have been surprised to run into back when she was in university; Morgause was wearing a jumper, casual as you like, and neither of them had touched her except to shake hands.

“Are you ready?” Morgause says again, rope stretched between her hands like a tight-rope.

“Yes.” Gwen raises her arms.

Morgause cups her wrists together in one warm hand and loops the rope around them loosely. The other end goes through the ring hanging from the ceiling with a jangle of chain. “Tell me if it's too tight,” she says. The rope cinches – taut, but not so much that it pinches.

Morgause explains the knot she's tying as she ties it. She's so gentle and quick about it that it's over before Gwen realises, and she's bound.

“Can you feel your fingers?” Morgause asks. Gwen nods. “Good. Can you move your hands?” She swivels her wrists obediently. “Alright. We're ready.”

She backs up a few steps. Morgana hunches over the tripod.

“Spread your knees,” she said. “Yes, like that. And tilt your head back.”

*

Gwen comes back in for another session a few weeks later.

“Do you want to do something more complicated?” 

They show her a picture of the tie in the book first, and Gwen agrees because she likes the pattern. Morgause has rope wound about a criss-crossing her arms lickety-split, cinching them together. Morgana takes pictures the whole time, glasses perched on the end of her nose.

They tell her she looks good in rope, and she believes them.

*

She learns in her third session that Morgause, usually so stern and stoic, comes to life when she talks about rope, and she is shown pictures of Morgana in a rope-corset. In her fourth session she learns that Morgana and Morgause are a couple as well as business partners.

Morgause invites her for a fifth session over the phone. “We want to do a shoot with you and another woman,” she says. “Would that be alright?”

“I've done it before,” says Gwen, which doesn't strictly answer the question.

“It'd just be you and Morgana,” says Morgause.

Gwen's breath catches in her throat and she agrees without really meaning to.

*

She's worried it'll be strange, but it isn't. Morgana pads around the studio in a robe, lining up the shot and explaining to Gwen what the plan is.

Then, while Morgause is tying Gwen up, she slips out of her robe and kneels pale and perfect on the mattress. Her hand cups Gwen's breast.

The camera clicks and flashes a few times – Gwen's head tilted back, Morgana's lips pressed to the place between her breasts, the two of them almost nose to nose – and keeps on clicking as Morgana's lips trail downwards.

When Morgana's lips press against her pussy Gwen squeals, head thrown back and mouth open, and she's aware that it's going to be an amazing shot. Morgana's tongue coils around her clit and she can't quite forget about the camera, its _click-click-click_ keeps cutting through the fog of her arousal, but she doesn't care, the camera only makes it better.

The camera goes off three times as she's coming, _snap-snap-snap_ , and it's the first real orgasm Gwen's ever had on a shoot.

* * *

**56.**

**Inspired by:** [Image #4](http://i.imgur.com/5Hy8VB3.jpg)  
 **Pairing:** Vivian/Freya  
 **Warnings:** None.

It had taken much begging, lying, and underhanded tricks to get her father to agree to let Vivian use the lake house, but the look on Freya’s face when they pull up makes everything worth it.

“ _Oh_ ,” Freya says with a joyous breath, and runs from the car into the lake, fully clothed. “Are you coming in?” she calls. 

Vivian looks down at her designer sundress and contemplates digging through her trunk to find her swimsuit, but the sound of Freya’s laugh makes Vivian throw her inhibitions to the wind.

Vivian’s never been the kind of girl to go swimming in a lake, much less in her clothes, but since meeting Freya she’s become a little less controlled and a little more like the girls she’s outwardly snubbed and inwardly envied. Her overprotective father incurred a haughty standard, but looking at the way Freya glistens, Vivian suddenly wonders if he would have been better chasing away girls instead of boys.

Freya swims up to her, all sweet smiles, and Vivian has just enough time to inanely think, _I can count the water drops on her eyelashes_ , before her thoughts are interrupted by a well-aimed splash.

She splutters and screeches and tries to act offended, but it takes nothing more than a laugh from Freya to melt her scowl into a grin as she wrestles her way through the impressively large waves the small girl is making to grab Freya’s arms. It’s innocent enough, but the moment Vivian catches her and the water stills, Freya looks up through her damp lashes and things don’t seem so innocent. It’s a long, strangely electric pause, and then Freya seems to summon up some sort of courage as she dives in for a messy, wet kiss.

Vivian squeaks, but the moment Freya starts to pull back, she decides that she’s had enough of being _proper_. She throws her arms around Freya’s neck and slides her tongue between Freya’s lips, swallowing the moan it elicits. Her fingers run through Freya’s wet tangles as the other girl rocks into her with a whimper, and suddenly the water just isn’t solid enough for everything Vivian wants to do to her.

She pulls away with a gasp. “Back to shore, _now_.”

Freya’s eyes brim with excitement and nervousness, but she lets the other girl drag her to the shallows with no complaint.

It’s perfect timing – the thunder starts rolling the second they set foot on the rocky beach and the rain starts coming down in sheets, soaking the girls further as they run, laughing and shrieking, to the cottage. 

The moment they shut the door behind them, Freya presses against Vivian, panting against her mouth as she learns the taste and shape of it with her tongue. Her hair is curling at the ends, dripping on the tile, and the dim, stormy light that filters through the window catches the droplets on her skin, making her gleam. She looks like a water sprite, as ridiculous as the notion sounds, and Vivian _wants_.

And Vivian has never been one to back down from what she wants.

She bends her head down to lick the beads of water off Freya’s collarbones, delighting in the bitten off, “ _Vivian_.”

Vivian busies her tongue with the nipple showing through Freya’s white blouse and lets her hands wander down to slip the soaked cotton panties down Freya’s thighs. She hasn’t done this to anyone but herself before but she’s nothing if not a determined learner, and it only takes a moment to adapt to the feel of being between someone else’s legs. She rubs at Freya’s clit with one hand and uses her other to slide the strap off Freya’s shoulders to expose her breasts to allow her tongue better access.

Freya’s panting and squirming is surreally hot, and she’s never felt more on edge than when Freya comes with a sharp moan. Vivian flicks her tongue across the peaked nipple once more for emphasis and Freya pulls her up, flush against her. She grins into Freya’s mouth as they kiss, shaky, hot and determined.

Freya wastes no time in pulling her over to the couch and spreading Vivian’s thighs with a grin. “This isn’t exactly what I was expecting when you said a ‘quiet weekend at the lake.’”

“Me neither,” says Vivian, and gasps loudly when Freya leans in to lick her through her underwear. “But this is far more fun than swimming, don’t you think?”

Freya’s answering grin has a predatory gleam.

* * *

**57.**

**Inspired by:**[Image #4](http://i.imgur.com/5Hy8VB3.jpg)  
 **Pairing:** Merlin/Arthur  
 **Warnings:** None

Arthur woke to the crash of thunder overhead. He bolted upright, clutching at the sides of the small boat in which he found himself as it pitched in the center of a wide lake. Lightning cracked down from the sky and split a tree on the far shore. Arthur scrambled backwards, choking on the heavy rain.

Then a flash of light and heat blinded him. The wood splintered around him, and he plunged into the cold water.

He struggled, but the weight of his armor dragged him down, faster and faster as the water saturated his clothing. Above him, the surface glowed with lightning and shimmered with raindrops.

But a greater light illuminated the lake from below him. As he fell into it, he saw two shapes outlined before him: a man and a woman, naked and pale in the eerie light. They seemed to argue, until the woman turned towards Arthur with a smile of luminous sweetness.

Then the man turned and stole the last of Arthur’s breath. 

His eyes glimmered gold; his body was a graceful sway of white, and his hair, longer than Arthur had ever seen it, floated around his head in an otherworldly crown. The gape of confusion, however, was every bit Arthur’s own Merlin.

Merlin floated towards him. The woman followed, bringing the light with her. Arthur drank in everything in Merlin's eyes, the look of disbelief, hope, and heartbreak. Merlin’s mouth opened and closed. The woman’s mouth opened and her laughter rang in Arthur’s mind.

She took Merlin’s hand and guided it to Arthur’s chest. Instantly the pressure eased in his lungs. He still could not breathe, but nor did he need to.

Merlin’s chest heaved once as though in sympathy. A single choked sob echoed in Arthur’s mind before Merlin turned and darted off into the darker waters.

The urge to follow spiked through him from head to groin. The lady laughed again. Her touch felt sacrosanct as she pulled away his belt and lifted his tabard over his head.

With each layer she removed, Arthur felt lighter, purer, stronger. Energy pulsed into his cock. By the time his trousers floated away, he stood ramrod-stiff and urgent.

The lady cupped his face and gave him a single sweet kiss. When she released him, understanding seeped through him of what he had to do. He pushed off the lake floor and swam after Merlin.

A bit of torn kelp, a disgruntled eel; the signs guided him as he swam. When he spotted the wreck of a ship far too large to have ever sailed this lake, he knew he had his white hart. 

Merlin had his back against the hull. A kick brought Arthur in a gentle arc until he caught himself on Merlin’s shoulder. Merlin startled, but didn’t flee again. He stared at Arthur as though needing proof of his reality.

Arthur provided it as he kissed and caressed him. Merlin didn’t move, but soon his cock was as hard as Arthur’s. Arthur pulled him out into the open water, guided his arms around Arthur’s neck and his legs around Arthur’s waist.

When they were entwined, Merlin finally responded. He gripped hard at Arthur’s shoulders, positioning their bodies until Arthur’s cock sheathed in him. Arthur pressed his face into Merlin’s neck, felt Merlin’s fingers in his hair, the sweet grip of him around Arthur’s cock as they floated together, bodies joined.

After a while, Merlin let himself fall backwards to float outstretched. Arthur gripped his hips to keep him anchored. The position urged him to thrust and fuck deeper into Merlin’s warmth; so he did.

The heat built between them until Arthur spilled his own heat into Merlin. As he did, he reached down and worked Merlin into the same state, and then pulled Merlin back into his arms. He held Merlin through his orgasm; the clenching of Merlin’s arse drew out his own sweet aftershocks.

They drifted, limp, sated, and bound, until out of nowhere a swift current seized them and propelled them up and out of the lake. They washed up on the soft ground of the shore. Air flooded Arthur’s lungs as Merlin choked and gasped into his shoulder.

Above them, the storm had cleared. A stranger, softer roar rumbled into Arthur’s ears. He squinted up into the blue sky just as a bird crossed the sun—a bird of tremendous size and made of...iron?

Arthur closed his eyes again and curled around Merlin. He would deal with the rest of this situation later.

* * *

**58.**

**Inspired by:**[Image #3](http://i.imgur.com/XFkVoo4.jpg)  
 **Pairing:** Arthur/Merlin  
 **Warnings:** ~~aliens~~ magic made them do it, also spanking

As is always their luck, the so-called Crevice of Many Wonders is actually a hole in a rock. Merlin works very hard to keep a straight face.

“That,” Arthur says flatly, his voice rather high. “That is what I’m meant to put my…my…”

“Cock?” Merlin suggests.

“ _Manhood_.” Arthur grits his teeth and appears to struggle for patience, which is never a good sign. “I’m meant to put it in there?”

“This is where Gaius said it would be.” Merlin hunches down to peer into the hole. It’s nothing unusual, just a circular opening in the rock face on the side of a cave. Truth be told, it doesn’t look like a particularly friendly place to put one’s cock.

“If it hadn’t been Gaius who sent us here, I would strongly suspect you of playing me for a fool,” Arthur says, crouching beside him.

“Mmm,” Merlin says, and sticks his fingers in the hole. It’s a stony channel inside, cold and slightly damp, but there’s nothing magical here that Merlin can sense. “Seems normal enough?”

“It’s a _magical sex hole_ , Merlin, there is nothing normal about it.”

Merlin looks at Arthur, waiting. Arthur looks back, narrows his eyes, and sighs. “Fine. Let’s get this over with. Go wait outside.”

“I’d best stay,” Merlin says reasonably. “Just until we know it’s not going to chop your cock off.”

“You are a coarse, treasonous idiot,” Arthur says, but he doesn’t say no.

Despite their mutual bravado, it’s pretty nerve-wracking, the moment Arthur yanks open his laces and shuffles up against the rock. The hole seems to have been originally made for a taller man, and Arthur has to go up on his toes and turn his cheek against the wall so that he can press into it. Merlin holds his breath when Arthur feeds his flaccid prick into the hole.

“Well?” 

“Nothing’s happening,” Arthur says, adjusting himself.

“Gaius said it would..y’know…do things to you. He said you shouldn’t touch yourself at all.”

“I remember what he said.” Arthur shifts from foot to foot.

“Why don’t you hump it a bit and see what happens?” Merlin offers with an encouraging flap of his hand. Which lands, unfortunately, on Arthur’s bare arse cheek, where his trousers have slid down.

Arthur jumps. “Merlin!”

“Sorry, sorry.”

*

“This isn’t working,” Arthur spits, a quarter hour later, brow sweaty and legs trembling as he tries to stay on his toes. “It’s just a rock.”

“But if you don’t—”

“I _know_ ,” Arthur yells and then quiets himself. They both know the inevitable Dire Consequences™ that will befall the kingdom should Arthur not complete this task. “I know. Just— just come here. Help me.”

“All right.” Merlin watches as Arthur struggles to keep himself up against the wall.. “How?”

“Will you…” Arthur clears his throat. “Will you do as you did earlier? With your hand?”

“With my….” Merlin sorts through the recent past. “You mean hit you?”

Arthur lets out a frustrated noise and turns his head away. “Yes. Hit me. It will help get the blood flowing.”

Merlin is not sure this theory is medically sound, but these are desperate times, so he tries an soft, experimental swat at Arthur’s thigh.

“Higher,” Arthur says softly. “On my bum.”

Merlin feels his eyebrows go very high. “Right.”

He tries a smack against the fattest part of Arthur’s arse cheek, half covered with his trousers. When that gets no response, he tries another, and then a third.

“Er. Like that?”

“Harder.”

Merlin gives him three more: his thumb and forefinger graze skin on each strike. Merlin isn’t putting much strength into it, really, but on the third hit, Arthur makes a startled noise.

“Oh god,” Arthur croaks before Merlin can apologize. “It moved.”

“What?”

“The hole, it’s narrowed. It’s got smaller around me. It’s—oh—it’s working.” Arthur swallows audibly. “Continue.”

Merlin continues. And then continues some more, because Arthur’s making these breathy grunts that, as his trousers fall further and further down and wrinkle under the curve of his pink arse, become looser and more breathless, almost like laughter.

It might have been worrying, except Arthur’s rolling his body in needy thrusts, forward into the hole and backward against Merlin’s hand.

“Come _on_ ,” Arthur gasps. “Put your back into it, you—”

Merlin scoffs and snaps his arm in a stinging strike, and Arthur comes in the middle of the word “ass,” his arse clenching under Merlin’s fingers.

* * *

**59.**

**Inspired by:** [Image #5](http://i.imgur.com/c2KgTyr.jpg)  
 **Pairing:** Gwaine/right hand, Gwaine/memory  
 **Warnings:** Angst? Mention of character death.

Gwaine grinned tiredly as he twisted the key in the lock to his flat. It had been a good night out, one filled with fond memories and the easy camaraderie of dear friends.

Chuckling softly, he tossed his bag onto the sofa as he passed it, he stretched and shuffled toward his bedroom. He stripped as he made his way towards the bed, kneeling down next to it and pulling out a large shoebox. 

Standing with a sigh, he set it down and picked up the lid, placing that back on the floor. He grinned at the first image he saw -- a pair of very lovely, large breasts, held tight together just for him. He remembered her fondly. She’d been lusty and accommodating, more than happy to let him photograph whatever he wanted.

Further down in the pile, he knew, amid snapshots of other breast and other dicks and many, many other pussies, were more photos of her -- some of her gloriously wet cunt, some of him as he penetrated her, even one of his cum splashed beautifully across her stomach -- but this was his favorite of her. He’d had many a good wank to this one picture. But tonight -- tonight was about honoring a memory, and that’s just what he planned to do. 

Digging a little, he pulled out several snapshots, then closed the box and placed it on the floor. Climbing onto the bed, he arranged the pillows against the headboard and settled against them. Picking up the first photo, he let his hand drift across his chest, tweaking his nipple to a hard point as he looked at dark hair and the delicate curve of an ear. 

He had loved this face well. The bright, sunny smile and those amazing cheekbones had worked him up many times before, and their memory did no less now. Gwaine smiled at the imagined sound of joyful laughter and whispered “I loved you”s and moaned to the memory of full wet lips dragging across his skin.

Reaching up, he licked his fingers, making sure they were nice and wet before returning to playing with his nipple, imagining that it was the lips and teeth from the next photo tugging and pulling at it. The man had had quite a way with his mouth.

Gwaine flipped to the next picture and moaned as phantom fingers caressed his sides. His own fingers followed their path, fingernails dragging in hot lined down his stomach. He remember this, too. How his lover had liked to mark him. Gwaine turned his head, baring his neck to imagined lips sucking and bruising before moving to capture his own in a surprisingly tender kiss.

Reaching down next to him, Gwaine grabbed the bottle of lube that was next to the pictures, pausing to study the images underneath it. A beautifully uncut penis stood proudly against coarse black hair, and he moaned as the memory of how it had felt to be filled by it washed over him. The memory was helped along tremendously by the visual stimulation of the tip of it disappearing into his own arse.

He hadn’t even known the picture’d been taken until months later, after the accident and the long, lonely nights. He’d just gotten to wanting it again and had found these two pictures tucked into his box, waiting for him like a thoughtful lover. It really shouldn’t have surprised him.

Pouring lube onto his fingers, he ran his hand down the crease of his thigh, teasing himself a bit with one hand as he wrapped the other around his straining dick. Setting a languid, flowing rhythm, he let himself get lost in the memory of another hand stroking him; long, tapered fingers wrapping just a hair too loose as they worked him to the edge. 

Gwaine moaned and dragged the pad of his thumb over his slit, fondling and teasing back down under the head. Thrusting his hips up, he tightened his grip and reached back with his other hand, pulling gently at his balls before inching back further. Finding his hole, he rubbed at it lightly, just a teasing touch, before pressing more firmly.

Slowly, his finger slid in, and he set a rhythm counter to the hand on his dick, pushing up into one hand as he pulled back from the other. Building speed, he could feel his orgasm approaching.

“Merlin,” he moaned as the memory of his lost love pushed him over the edge.

* * *

**60.**

**Inspired by:** [Sound #1](https://soundcloud.com/cheesymess/phone-vibrating) (a few other of the prompts make the barest appearance, but it's mostly the phone)  
 **Pairing:** Merlin/Arthur  
 **Warnings:** none

Merlin’s mobile goes off at three in the morning. It wakes him from a dead sleep, blaring out the whistling tune he’s not changed since he bought it.

He scrambles for it, pulls the charger it’s attached to out of the wall in his haste and rasps a half-whispered, “Hello?”

“It’s me,” Arthur says.

***

He’s waiting outside under a few inches of protruding roof when Merlin arrives, shoulders dark with rain.

The last time Merlin saw him, Arthur was a bloke called Ben who works at a Ford plant in Southampton, has a girlfriend in Portsmouth, and has phoned the police on Merlin five times.

“It’s been a month,” Merlin says when he is near enough for Arthur to hear him, jittery at being this close again, hot behind the eyes the closer he gets.

“A month,” Arthur says.

They've still not worked out how to properly navigate a greeting. There isn't anything Merlin can think of that might express how he feels when Arthur’s stood in front of him, being _Arthur_ for god knows how long this time around. Nothing to mix that with all of the old awkward bits and pieces of them that pour out like they might have back in Camelot, like Merlin hasn't waited a thousand years and hasn't spent two more waiting for each sporadic burst and subsequent fade of Arthur’s memories. It’s ridiculous that Merlin always wonders at first, for a few seconds, if Arthur will want to kiss him again.

When they’re in the house and they make it to the sofa, Arthur does.

It should be about more than this. Maybe it would be if they were granted longer than a day, three days, five days in a month, but humans are predictable creatures. Even the immortal ones. So they take off their clothes and push each other down into the cushions, running hands over skin and lips and hair and anywhere they can reach to make sure they are okay in this way.

Merlin gets onto his knees between Arthur’s spread thighs, soaking in the heat of him. A cock in his mouth still feels like a new thing. The way Arthur tenses up, the high whine he lets out when he’s prodding the back of Merlin’s throat - all of it new, and neither of them keep their heads very well in the face of it.

Distantly, as Merlin pulls off and licks at the slit, he wonders if Ben’s girlfriend does this to him, crouched in this same spot, sucking on this same dick. He knows she does. He witnessed her riding it once on accident, when Arthur’d phoned him and slipped away again before Merlin could get to him. The curtains had been open and he’d stood there for twenty minutes, watching familiar hands clutch at her violently rocking hips, thinking of Gwen.

Merlin takes Arthur back in, reaching up to grip his arse and pull him closer so he’s open and displayed. Merlin’s.

“Want you to fuck me,” Merlin says, mouth still pressed to Arthur’s cock so the words come out muffled and wet. Arthur bends down and pulls him forward, goes for Merlin’s lips with his own and fucks him there on the sofa, the wetness Merlin’s learned to conjure up slipping between them with each thrust.

He rests his elbows on Arthur’s shoulders, hands in his hair, holding him close as Arthur pants against Merlin’s neck, and he wonders if Ben ever notices Merlin’s been on his cock.

***

They can’t stay the night together. Arthur wakes as Ben too often and it had been ugly the one time they’d done it.

“Go to sleep,” Merlin whispers, and doesn't mean it at all.

“No,” Arthur says back, but he blinks, slowly, heavily. Ben had worked that day. He’s got work in the morning. “What if it’s...longer...next time -” he says, haltingly. “Longer than a month? I don’t want you -”

“Shhh,” Merlin hushes, and kisses him again, his lips and his chin, his forehead, his neck, the side of his face, until Arthur’s breathing is even.

Merlin watches him a little while, until he himself falls asleep for ten minutes and wakes again. 

After that he shifts himself out of Arthur’s grip, shivers without his arm around him and searches the floor for his clothes.

When he pulls his jeans on, he slips his hand in the pocket and closes it around his phone, making sure it’s still there.

* * *

**61.**

**Inspired by:** [Image #5](http://i.imgur.com/c2KgTyr.jpg)  
 **Pairing:** Gwaine/Merlin. Gwaine/others mentioned.  
 **Warnings:** None.

The book of Gwaine's love

It started when they were drunk (obviously).

“You what?” Arthur asked.

“A book,” Gwaine slurred. 

“Of everyone you've ever-”

“Shagged, yes. Well. The good ones, anyway,” Gwaine finished, nodding. “No faces, nothing overly identifying, just...mementos.”

“I don't believe you,” Leon said. “You're talking bullshit.” 

“I am not, I can prove it. In fact – Lance can back me up.” Gwaine gestured. Lance was trying to hide behind his pint, which wasn't working well for him. Merlin could see how red he'd gone. Merlin was intrigued by the idea. He wondered what weird metrics Gwaine measured his lays against. Merlin shifted in his seat, arousal stirring at the idea of Gwaine judging his sexual prowess. He coughed and keyed back into the conversation, not wanting to draw attention to himself. 

“Lance? Oh, Lance, really? Gwaine?” Arthur asked, giving him a look that was half shock half pity. 

“Hey!” Gwaine said, punching Arthur on the shoulder. 

Lance nodded. “I was drunk!”

Merlin couldn't believe that Lance was in the book. He wondered which other of their friend's Gwaine had been impressed by. 

“The first time,” Gwaine muttered. Everyone collapsed into laughter, even Lance. 

“Well.” Leon said. “At least you know you were good.”

“Yeah, thanks for that,” Lance said. 

“Classy as ever, Gwaine,” Merlin said. Gwaine just winked at him.

“Comes in useful on those long lonely nights, I'll tell you.” 

“TMI, mate,” Arthur said. 

That settled it, Merlin had to get in that book. 

~~~  
First he had to seduce Gwaine, which was surprisingly hard. He started by going to Gwaine's house, bottle of wine in hand. He'd normally get some cheap vodka or beer, but he wanted something to show his intent a little bit. If Gwaine questioned it he could say it was on offer. 

“Merlin, hi. Wasn't expecting you.” 

“Flatmate's got the boyfriend over – want the place to themselves.” 

Gwaine nodded knowingly. “Say no more. Come in, make yourself at home.” Gwaine stepped back. 

“Thanks,” Merlin said. 

Gwaine poured the wine and handed one to Merlin. 

“Posh, eh? Very nice,” Gwaine said, taking a sip. 

Merlin shrugged, gulping his a bit. Now he was here he had no idea what to do. I his head he'd gone from sitting on the couch to drinking wine to being in Gwaine's bed. The inbetween bit was a bit fuzzy. 

He and Gwaine made small talk, making quick work of the wine. Gwaine put his empty glass down, lips still shiny from his last sip. _Fuck it_ Merlin thought, and launched himself at Gwaine. 

Gwaine made a muffled sound of shock as Merlin pressed his lips against Gwaine's, chasing the taste of wine with his tongue. Merlin tugged on Gwaine's hair a bit, until Gwaine kissed him back, hands coming up to cup Merlin's arse. 

Merlin groaned, and pulled back. “Bed?”

“Yeah,” Gwaine grinned.

~~~  
Gwaine levered himself out of bed. Merlin rolled over to watch him pull on a pair of boxers and sit on the window sill. He lit a cigarette, taking a long drag. 

“Well?” Merlin asked, still sleepy.

“Well, what?” Gwaine asked, voice husky. 

“Get your camera then,” Merlin said, stretching. 

“Very sure of yourself aren't you?”

Merlin just grinned. “I seem to remember you enjoying yourself last night.” 

Gwaine shook his head and laughed. He stubbed his half finished cigarette out in an ashtray kept on the window sill. He walked to his chest of drawers and picked up a camera. 

Merlin swallowed. “How do you want me?” He was suddenly nervous, self-conscious. Which was ridiculous seeing how much he wanted to be in this situation. 

“However you want – whatever makes you comfortable,” Gwaine said, fiddling with the settings. 

“Tell me,” Merlin said. Gwaine looked up, eyes dark, and Merlin swallowed again, feeling himself blush. 

Gwaine tugged the bedsheets off Merlin. 

“Bend your knee, here,” Gwaine said, slipping a hand under Merlin's leg and re-arranging him. Merlin shuddered, feeling his cock fill again. 

“Gorgeous,” Gwaine murmured. He ran his fingers gently up Merlin's half-hard cock. He brought the camera up and took a snap. Merlin groaned, feeling his cock harden fully. 

Gwaine licked the length of Merlin's cock. Merlin threw his head back against the pillow and dimly registered another snap of the camera. Gwaine made a noise that could only be described as satisfied, before swallowing Merlin down again.

* * *

**62.**

**Inspired by:** [Sound #2](https://soundcloud.com/cheesymess/thunder)  
 **Pairing:** Arthur/Merlin  
 **Warnings:** PWP, Outdoor Sex, Biting.

**ThunderStorm**

The sun set a flame to the encroaching evening vale of midnight. Crimson tendrils reaching out from the once powder blue skies that were now dipped in amethyst ether. A silent symphony of sultry, saturated skies played on before the adoring audience upon the earth. Enraptured with the voluptuous horizon sat Merlin, gazing at the heavens above, with a flake of glistening gold in his eyes. A rustle in the surrounding forestry awakened him from his reverie, as he looked around, strong arms came around him from behind. He gasped taking in the smell of spices, leather and something he knew only as Arthur; his Prince. Merlin sunk back against the hard planes of Arthur’s chest purring contentedly as the arms around him tightened securely.

“Hey you.” Arthur whispered into his ear, his hot breath dancing across the sensitive skin below his ear, sending chills coiling down his spine. Merlin let his head drop back onto Arthur’s shoulder looking up at him. “Hey.”

Arthur soundlessly kissed his forehead and the tip of his nose. Merlin smiled and pursed his lips awaiting his kiss, but Arthur merely brushed past them with his own, a ghost of a touch, softer than the flutter of a butterflies newly sprung wings. Merlin mewled mournfully, trying to chase his Prince’s lips, though quickly stopped when the long elegant column of his neck was peppered with kisses. 

The slow torturous exploration Arthur’s tongue worked on Merlin’s neck coupled with his wandering hands had the young warlock panting in moments, melting back into his lover. So involved in one another were the two, they barely registered the distant rumble of clouds; engorged and the far off glimmer of lightning; effulgent.

They wasted no time, shedding clothes and world wearies alike. Soon they both lay naked, bathed in shimmering moonlight as the last traces of the sun disappeared into the horizon. They were free of the shackles of this life in this moment, free to drift in the air like the tiny raindrops that had begun to fall from the darkening night skies. Another faded grumbling of the overcast blanket of night warned of trouble, though neither man cared.

One glistening raindrop fell landing on Merlin’s chest; Arthur leaned in from above and chased the droplet with the tip of his tongue. 

Merlin moaned. “Arthur…” 

At the call of his name he moved up and finally their lips crashed together, just as the skies thrashed, thunder, engulfing them as their tongues wrestled and slithered within their joined mouths.

Their bodies, damp and chilled by the frigid weather, yet searing when they would grind against the other in sinful pleasure. With every move they freefell further into their own utopian dream. Their bodies ground out the melody to a song unwritten and yet the lyrics sang out of every pore in their sweat slicked flesh, the beat kept in time by their racing hearts, speeding towards euphoria.

Merlin shivered as another roar of thunder followed a blinding flash of light, just as Arthur’s firm calloused hand found his cock, dripping and aching. Slicking his rough fingers with the fluid leaking from his solid erection, Arthur traced his tight hole before slipping inside. The rain fell harder as Arthur pushed further, stretching him with his skilled fingertips.

“Please!” begged Merlin. 

Arthur could not deny him, pulling his lovers legs up till they rested on his wide shoulders, he slowly pushed the head of his throbbing cock past the still tight ring of muscle with a deep groan that was echoed , thunderously in the heavens above.

Merlin keened and opened himself up for his love, chanting his name like a prayer as the Prince began to fuck him in steadily harder strokes, rubbing over his prostate in a delicious agony.

“Mine.” Arthur growled as his thrusts became crazed along with the torrential storm around them. He bit down on Merlin’s neck, marking him. Merlin screamed into the abyss of the stormy night as he came hard without his cock being touched. Clawing at Arthur’s back wildly, pulsating with pleasure. Arthur felt Merlin squeeze his dick tightly; it was all he could take following his lover into bliss.

Hours later they lay embracing arms gazing at the now clear night sky, its midnight complexion freckled with stars. Arthur pulled his Pendragon cloak around them and curled around Merlin’s smaller frame, wrapping them tightly together. They slept under the blanket of midnight that night, and many nights since.

* * *

**63.**

**Inspired by:** [Sound #1](https://soundcloud.com/cheesymess/phone-vibrating)  
 **Pairing:** Merlin/Arthur  
 **Warnings:** Slight dub-con (characters have been drinking)

_VRRR VRRR VRRR VRRR_

Merlin reaches out from under his pillow to swat at the phone buzzing on the nightstand. For some reason it's farther away than usual and he ends up falling out of bed, taking most of the sheet with him. He lies on the floor, rubbing at his face in an effort to wake up. When he finally opens his eyes he realizes that this is not his nightstand. This is not his bedroom. It's Arthur's.

He and Arthur have been working in the same office for a few years and after a bit of a rocky start (in which Merlin may or may not have had Arthur's car towed among other things) they became good friends. They meet for lunch at least once a week to catch up and gossip about the newest office hook up scandal, and friendship has always been enough. Except lately Arthur's been spending more and more time with leggy blondes and fit brunets and it's driving Merlin crazy.

Last night Arthur hosted a party to encourage their co-workers to think of something other than work. Merlin has the vague recollection of drinking more than his share of alcohol and admitting to being completely infatuated with Arthur.

 _Maybe nothing happened,_ Merlin thinks. _Maybe I just passed out ...naked._

He peeks over the edge of the bed and sees Arthur lying there, sheet pulled down to the very bottom of his back from Merlin's flailing. _Jesus, his shoulders._ Merlin sits down on the floor, running a hand through his hair. There's something gross under his thigh - a wash cloth stiff with dried come, oh god.

Now Merlin starts to piece it together.

They kept to separate corners all night: Merlin on one side discussing the latest episode of his favorite show with Gwen, Arthur on the other flirting with a gotgeous man Merlin had never seen before. Every time Arthur threw his head back laughing, Merlin gulped down another gin and tonic attempting to treat his jealousy with alcohol. Eventually Merlin consumed enough liquid courage that he simply marched up to Arthur where he was getting another beer and said something to the effect of, "I like your stupid face and I wouldn't mind seeing it every morning." Arthur looked stunned, he remembers that.

Soon people began to leave and Arthur dragged him to his bedroom to talk. They didn't actually get to the talking. They barely managed to get through the door before Arthur had pushed him against the wall, kissing him fiercely. There was fumbling with clothing and falling into bed. Arthur holding Merlin like he couldn't stop touching him, like this would all fade away if he stopped wringing Merlin's dick.

Merlin remembers Arthur's cock. Remembers the perfect weight of it in his hand, the perfect taste of it in his mouth. The way Arthur's eyes rolled back in his head and his hands pulled at the sheets whenever Merlin was particularly skillful with his tongue....

"Merlin, would you get up here?"

Merlin starts, nearly jumping out of his skin at the sound of Arthur's voice. He turns cautiously to look at him. Arthur's smiling at him, the sheet at his hips about to fall away completely.

"If you're not coming back to bed, do us a favor and go make some bacon."

* * *

**64.**

**Inspired by:** [Sound #1](https://soundcloud.com/cheesymess/phone-vibrating)  
 **Pairing:** Elena/Gwen  
 **Warnings:** None

“Look what I’ve found,” Elena says, using her softest brush to flick away the last of the dirt on the black rectangle she’s unearthed. 

Gwen climbs over the yellow rope demarcating Elena’s site to have a look. 

“Fascinating,” she says, prodding at the little rubber nubs raised off the artefact’s face. “Let’s bring it inside.”

+++

When they’re back onboard the ship and have their alt-atmosphere suits stowed, they set Elena’s find in the examination field and strip it down to schematics.

“Look at that,” Gwen says, reaching through the 3D rendering to its tiny circuit board.

“Been awhile since we’ve seen one of those,” Elena says, voice round with laughter. Gwen looks at her and they giggle, giddy in the face of their first Old Earth discovery.

+++

Once they’ve saturated its quaint little battery with power, the device chirps, vibrates, sends rudimentary messages and even plays music.

“So strange that they used it for so many unrelated tasks,” Gwen says, taking notes. Elena turns it over and over in her hands, enjoying its weight and sleek, freshly sanitized surface.

+++

Elena brings the OEMobile Mark1 and a laserdriver to her quarters. With a little tinkering she can make it ring continuously. She bites her tongue and pokes a little deeper, just to see what will happen. The device jolts, vibrating out of her hand and into her lap. It presses to her crotch as she fishes for it. The sensation is odd, ticklish. Another feature, perhaps?

If she remembers her Old Earth history correctly, ancient human civilizations stimulated their genitals to aid in the production of offspring. The pursuit of space and its mysteries made such organic processes inconvenient, and once the technology to engineer viable zygotes was perfected, it became obsolete. Recreational eroticism, as far as she’s aware, now fell under the domain of the VR arcades and museums. 

She presses the buzzing little brick to her lips. It tingles, and she smiles. Curious, she strips out of her khakis and experiments with touching it to different parts of her body. It makes her belly twitch, but has no noticeable effect on her knees or arms.

“Ooh,” she laughs, flinching away from her nipple. “I can see the appeal.” She holds it there for a few moments, then switches to her other breast. It sends a warm sensation through her gut, novel and pleasant. After a time she notices that her thighs are damp, the folds of her sex rather flushed and sensitive. 

“Strange,” she whispers. Hesitantly, she skates the mobile down her stomach and between her legs. It takes a second to find the source of her heightened sensitivity, but when she does she shouts, spasming and dropping the device. Panting, she slaps the onboard intercom and calls “Gwen!” 

In spite of the size of their ship, Gwen is there in moments, squeezing through the door before it’s fully opened. “Are you alright? What’s wrong?” she says, tugging out her medical scanner. 

“No, it’s fine; I’ve discovered something,” Elena says, petting Gwen’s wrist to reassure her. “Look, watch—” she says, grabbing the device and leaning back on her bunk. She’s ginger with it at first, still a little uncertain, and Gwen is looking at her with a worried crease to her brow that suggests she doesn’t fully believe Elena hasn’t fallen and concussed herself again. 

“It’s okay— ah!” Elena cries out, curling around the press of her hand. 

Gwen reaches for her, worry graduating to alarm. “Elena—”

“No no no no, watch, watch,” Elena gasps, rubbing the edge of the mobile in quick little circles. The feeling is remarkable, lighting up nerves as distant from her groin as her scalp and toes. It makes her feel desperate and hot, as if she’s pursuing something just out of reach. “Ah, Gwen, it’s— it’s building, I don’t—” she jerks, clawing at her sheets as her muscles clench, gripping at nothing. “Oh Gwen it’s good, Gwen I’m—” and then she squeals, quite involuntarily, rocking through sweet flashes of sensation that crest and ebb like waves, Gwen’s hands steady on her thighs throughout. 

“...Elena?” Gwen says, after she’s taken several moments to catch her heaving breath. 

“Oh, wow,” Elena sighs, palming her face. She shakes her head and meets Gwen’s eyes, laughing at the easing signs of concern in her expression. “ _Wow_. What do you think?” she smiles, wiggling her toes. 

Gwen glances between Elena’s flushed chest, her splayed legs — her loose grip around the mobile. There’s an intrigued light in her eyes as she slides it from Elena’s fingers.

“I think I’d like to try.”

* * *

**65.**

**Inspired by:** [Gif #2](http://i.imgur.com/injACeD.gif)  
 **Pairing:** Arthur/Merlin  
 **Warnings:** None

 

It has become a depressing game Arthur played with himself, to fight the emptiness in his heart, and until sunup Merlin played by the rules. Merlin was no fool; he knew that in the blackness of the night, Arthur could have who he wanted in his bed, even if Merlin's body was a substitute.

It always started with the same question, before Arthur was to retire for the night, but it wasn't the question, but the unasked request of Merlin. _Stay with me, I cannot be alone tonight._

“Do you have any duties for Gaius, in the morning, Merlin?”

“No sire, none that I know of.”

“Come and snuff the candles.”

Arthur would always let Merlin in the bed chamber first, watching him move about, extinguishing candles, slowly engulfing the room into darkness. Because the second rule was, it always happened in darkness. 

Undressing, Merlin climbed onto the bed, following the third rule, no talking. He let the rustle of bed sheets let Arthur know that he was ready for the next step.

Arthur would come to him, his passion and need, different each time.

Sometimes it was hard a sweaty, Merlin on his knees, face down fingers digging deep into his hips. It was on these nights Arthur used sex to take control of his anger and insert his dominance, over who ever Merlin was that night, to the point where Merlin feared he'd be too bruised to walk the next day. 

Tonight though, Arthur took him time with kisses so profound, Merlin felt as Arthur was trying to devour him whole. Arthur tasted the sweat on Merlin’s skin, the feel of his flesh in his teeth, nibbling Merlin’s earlobes. 

Pulling Merlin to straddle him, Arthur leisurely dragged his cock between the round globes of Merlin’s ass, teasing his hole with harder pressure at each pass. 

Merlin knew Arthur hadn't bedded a man before their first time, when he had tried to enter him dry and tight. Now, Merlin closed his eyes, and let a bit of magic help, when Arthur pushed inside. 

Merlin set the pace, riding Arthur with a slow grind, hands next to Arthur's shoulders, careful not to touch. Arthur's hands caress Merlin's body, down his back and up along his ribs, staying away from any area that would remind Arthur that he was male. 

And that was the fourth rule, touching. It wasn't that Arthur didn't want Merlin to touch him, but Arthur stayed from touch areas that reminded him of Merlin's lack of breasts. 

They moved like this, quietly in the shadows, until Arthur's control faltered and he came deep, holding Merlin's hips still. 

Merlin learned early on that on nights like this Arthur, who pictured someone else in his bed, didn't want Merlin to leave. Body satisfied for now, Arthur fell asleep easy, with the warmth of a body at his side. 

It was nights like this that Merlin would lay awake, heart almost breaking, because Arthur was making love to a person he couldn't have. That why the rules were important to protect them both. Merlin knew better to never let Arthur into his heart. 

Not like Gwen had gotten into Arthur’s.

Merlin never knew how deep Arthur's love for Gwen was, until she picked Lancelot over Arthur. He stood next to Arthur, not as a servant, but as a friend, the day he watched the couple ride out of Camelot under the mist of a spring drizzle. 

After that day, Merlin saw an Arthur no one else saw, the sad brokenhearted man outside of the public eye. One that needed the comfort in the darkness.

* * *

**66.**

**Inspired by:** [Gif #4](http://i.imgur.com/3G2rMRQ.gif)  
 **Pairing:** Merlin/Arthur  
 **Warnings:** D/s, mentioned unrequited crush

Merlin pulled the rope a bit tighter.

Arthur looked good tied up and helpless. There was something exhilarating at having someone as proud and powerful as Arthur Pendragon under his thumb like this. Today it was tying him up, but it had been spanking, fucking him over his work papers, and many other things before. After telling everyone else what to do all day, Arthur liked to let go of his control for a while during sex, and Merlin was more than happy to provide the release.

The rope formed a nice pattern over the muscles and soft, soft skin. Before the end of the night Merlin knew Arthur would be a sobbing, pleading mess, and the thought filled him with pleasure and arousal. The power he felt in his fingers when he played with the rope, listening to breathing and faint gasps, felt a bit like magic. 

It couldn’t be explained, not quite, how kind and innocent-looking Merlin could make Arthur behave like this. Everyone at the workplace knew about Merlin and Arthur, even though they didn’t know exactly what they did together. All they knew was that Arthur’s personal assistant was more than just an employee to him and that the dynamics of their relationship weren’t as uncomplicated as they might’ve seemed like for an outsider. During the day Arthur might be heard yelling how useless Merlin was at everything, but Merlin had never been fired which on its own told the others there was more than just strict work relationship going on between them. 

Smirking at Arthur, Merlin leaned down to trace the patterns the rope formed with his tongue and fingers. Arthur was holding his breath, but didn’t speak even when Merlin’s hand slid between Arthur’s legs. Maybe Arthur was just so used to following rules that he didn’t even consider disobeying, or maybe he just knew what the reward would be if he was a good boy. Merlin had once, just once, left Arthur without a release at the end of their playtime just to remind him that it was still an option.

First before any climax there was time to tease him though. The build-up was Merlin’s reward much more than the fucking or the release he would have later. This was Merlin’s favourite part, and since in the end it led to Arthur coming so hard that he sometimes blacked out, he’d never heard any complaints.

Arthur was a close friend, and they made a good match. They spent most of their time arguing, but Merlin knew he would’ve liked to be more than co-workers, more than friends, more than fuckbuddies with Merlin. 

They never talked about it, but he knew.

All of their friends knew too that Arthur Pendragon, the heir to the Pendragon business empire, was more than a bit infatuated with his PA. 

More than anything though, Merlin hoped that he could’ve loved Arthur back the way he should have. He would’ve given all he had to love Arthur more than as a friend, as someone attractive, as someone he enjoyed dominating. They would’ve made a good match outside bed too, but Merlin didn’t feel that way.

And they never talked about it anyway.

* * *

**67.**

 

 **Inspired by:**[Sound #2](https://soundcloud.com/cheesymess/thunder)  
 **Pairing:** Merlin/Arthur  
 **Warnings:** D/s situation

His smirking 'instrument' opened the special desk drawer, painfully aware even the sound of the wood rubbing against like materials would be used in the show. Maybe it would be the cocking of a cross bow. Or the sheathing of a sword. 

Naked save for his collar, his instrument reached in, pulled out all the required items for the day, and like the perfect finely tuned man that he was, he kept his mouth open the entire time, never once breaking his kneeling position on the floor. It was a taunt and a dare, a flaunting challenge of how good he could be.

Merlin, also naked, placed the tip of his rapidly filling cock to Arthur's mouth. It glistened as six mics picked up every last detail in their home sound studio. Arthur made sure of it, just as sure as his perfect lips held open for Merlin to glide easily in. The squelching sound of wet friction and that tiniest bit of suction from the faint gasps of Arthur's breathing matched perfectly to what Merlin needed. These sloppy noises would be the boots marching through a muddy field. Over and over Merlin let the tip slip past his instrument's dripping tongue to the back of his throat, careful not to push too hard since he needed clear repetitive sounds that he could layer. Arthur thought of it as teasing when Merlin did this. Arthur wanted Merlin to push harder and if they weren't recording, Merlin's sure Arthur would have bitched serval kinds of fits at not having his skull throughly fucked by now.

Pushy pratty bottom. It was one of the reasons Merlin loved this little game of theirs. A single day long session provided all the sound effects needed for a 2 hour movie or documentary, during which time Arthur had to take things as slow as Merlin needed them to be. Not that Arthur didn't enjoy himself. Merlin made sure his royal pain in the butt husband came as often as he liked. It was just on Merlin's terms for a change. Sort of.

Merlin turned the bass down on mic 4 and soundlessly tapped Arthur on the shoulder, a signal to get louder. Merlin picked up the gag from the desk and bit into it. He needed the reminder more than Arthur that his own noise at this moment wasn't an option. No matter how good his dick felt getting pulled deep into Arthur's now tight suction filled mouth, even bucking his hips would move the chair. The best Merlin could do was place a hand to the back of Arthur's head, grab a handful of hair, and time the resulting pulse of whimpers to reflect an animal in heat.

Skilled hunters imitated rutting animals with crude devices to change the pallet of a human's mouth. Arthur wouldn't need anything changed. The messy stilted grunts he uttered around Merlin's cock were again just what Merlin needed. Raw and powerful, the strength of an animal looking to mate and fuck. The grip of Merlin's fist relaxed then tightened to a forceful speed, one that would make them both come hard. He never bothered to block out the sounds of either of their orgasms, so he let slip the gag from his mouth and cried out Arthur's name.

* * *

**68.**

**Inspired by:**[Sound #4](https://soundcloud.com/cheesymess/walking-on-gravel-soundbible)  
 **Pairing:** Merlin/Arthur  
 **Warnings:**

Arthur pushes inside again, this time from behind. The slow drag of the thick cock makes Merlin gasp, his arsehole stretched and raw from the number of times they’ve fucked without the aid of anything but fingers, saliva, and come. He wants to cry out at the sensation; instead Arthur offers him an arm to bite and Merlin does gladly, not drawing blood but wanting to. His tongue washes the dirt and sweat from Arthur’s skin instead. 

“How many times?” Arthur asks, an old joke of theirs that now seems absurd. 

“Five hundred and two,” he says anyway. 

“Remember when you said never again?” 

Merlin lets out a relieved sigh as Arthur reaches around to stroke his swollen length, still moving inexorably in and out, a gentle cadence of fucking. “You were intolerable.” 

A nip at his ear and a quiet huff. “You weren’t exactly a rose yourself.” 

“I was a rose, you just forgot about the thorns.”

“I never forgot about the thorns, Merlin. Never.” 

Neither speaks for a while after that. It’s too much to remember the past: all of those ridiculous days when they bickered and argued like they had nothing but time, like they were young and invincible, like they’d only ever encounter monsters in fairy tales. Now their existence has become a pinprick on that previous, expansive map of life, and thinking too much about it . . . no. Best to focus on the love of Arthur’s cock and his sweet-stroking hand. 

Merlin’s head lolls back, his body an offering. Arthur’s arms are strong as he shifts his hips to fuck harder. He’s always been so strong; even through weeks of near-starvation and desiccating fear, his body has maintained its solidity while Merlin’s has grown thin. It gives Merlin comfort, that strength. At least one of them will survive, and he needs it to be Arthur. 

“If they come for us—”

“They won’t. Gods, the way you feel.” 

“Stop trying to change the subject.” 

“Then stop trying to bring it up while we’re fucking.” A quick snap of hips makes Merlin’s mind go fuzzy. And then Arthur cups his balls and squeezes, not tenderly. 

“Okay. Just keep doing _that_.”

The walls close around them until there is nothing but the heat of breath and the rigid length riding deep. Even though it hurts, Merlin clenches around Arthur to hold him inside. He can feel the strain in the trembling body behind him as Arthur waits, lets Merlin use his cock. Merlin can come like this, just from the rub of Arthur’s cock inside of him. He squeezes tighter and pushes back. Arthur groans. It won’t take much longer. Already Merlin can feel his orgasm building; it starts in the place where Arthur’s erection nudges, and fans out through his belly down to his balls and the base of his prick. The white-hot pleasure crests over him in waves even though he doesn’t have much to give anymore, just a couple small spurts of release that Arthur feeds back to him, chucking like the prat he is. 

They kiss as Arthur starts to thrust again, his tongue mimicking the action of his cock. It spears into Merlin’s mouth and searches for Merlin’s own, and Merlin wants to cry at the sweet invasion. 

Maybe this will be the last time after all.

“Stop thinking, Merlin,” Arthur whispers against his ear, and then so quietly Merlin can barely hear, “darling, my darling,” as he comes. 

They do have a plan; it’s just been too hard to leave this temporary haven. The cottage itself is remote enough to have thus far escaped the notice of the nightly patrols, but it won’t be long before they’re found. It never is. If only Merlin could use his magic, but it’s far too risky, especially given what happened the last time. The tattoo on his arm that marks him as _other_ throbs, a sinister reminder of all they’ve lost, all Arthur’s given up to be here with him. 

Minutes or hours later—who can tell anymore—Merlin startles at a sound outside. He tenses, clutches Arthur’s sleeping body close, and listens again. Maybe he’s misheard; maybe it was an animal. But no, the sound comes again, growing louder; a rhythmic crunch of footsteps on the gravel walk outside that makes Merlin’s blood freeze in his veins. The sound of a patrol. Merlin’s magic rises in defiance. 

“Arthur,” Merlin whispers into dirty, beloved hair. “Arthur. They’re coming.”

* * *

**69.**

**Inspired by:** [Gif](http://i.imgur.com/F8Vw5SJ.gif) [#3](http://i.imgur.com/SfiMqmh.gif)  
 **Pairing:** Merlin/Arthur  
 **Warnings:** Very horny!Arthur, scents  & smells

It all started three weeks ago when he and Merlin became roommates. 

Merlin is a lot of things; he’s loud, nerdy, funny and irritatingly untidy, but he’s also the kind of guy who doesn’t have any modesty or shame to get naked in front of others, the kind of guy who’s comfortable enough in his own skin in a way that Arthur, with a much nicer body, sometimes isn’t. And because of that, Merlin walks around the flat only in his boxers, then paddles naked when he gets out of the shower and strips in front of Arthur before going to sleep. It’d be pretty amazing if it wasn’t _torture_.

And now, as an immediate consequence, Arthur is feeling irredeemably horny all the time, and doing things he shouldn’t, like thinking of Merlin whilst he sneaks his hand inside his joggers and takes himself in hand. It’s stupid, but it becomes even worse when he realises a pair of Merlin’s boxers are perched on the edge of his bed, just a few inches away from where his thigh is resting, and he reaches up with his free hand to thumb at them. He shivers, remembering Merlin wearing them yesterday before he went to bed, and instead of wrinkling his nose and shoving them to the floor, he fists the cloth in his hand and strokes his cock faster, finding his hand quickly smeared with precome.

He brings Merlin’s boxers closer to him unconsciously, until somehow he’s got them rubbing against his chest, eyes set on them. He has the incredibly mental idea of having a quick whiff, just so he can know the way Merlin smells, and because he’s a lucky lad, the door flies open in the exact moment where he’s about to burrow his face in the garment.

Arthur sits upright, throwing Merlins boxers halfway across the room in a rush, but Merlin —because of course it had to be him— has already seen. 

“What were you— are those my . . . boxers?” Merlin asks, slack-jawed as he stands in the doorway with his ridiculous hipster clothes, and his spiky hair and startlingly blue eyes as wide as plates.

Arthur panics, just a little. “Yes, and for your information, I can’t even have a bloody wank without your dirty stuff being everywhere,” he attempts to sound upset, but with a hand still wrapped tightly around his cock and his cheeks bright red in embarrassment, it probably doesn’t come out very convincing.

Merlin keeps staring for a good ten seconds before he closes his mouth, then drops his bag to the floor over a pile of clothes, and in a couple of strides, kneels on the end of Arthur’s bed at his feet. “You were smelling them,” Merlin enunciates very slowly, his eyes fixated on Arthur’s. 

“No,” Arthur frowns. This is turning really embarrassing now. He forgot Merlin’s the kind of guy who doesn’t mind speaking what’s going through his mind freely and openly, even if sometimes he causes people to be embarrassed. 

“Merlin!” Arthur yells affronted, when Merlin tackles him down on the bed and jumps on top of him. “Do you mind?” He gestures to his crotch. Unluckily for him his erection has not flagged, if only, he thinks it feels even harder now that Merlin’s lying over him, now that he can feel Merlin’s body warmth and has his face so close he could steal a kiss like he’s been wanting to do for a while.

Merlin smirks, and Arthur immediately decides he doesn’t like the look on his face. At least he doesn’t until Merlin crawls down over his body and surprises Arthur by saying, “Not at all.” And then replaces Arthur’s hand with his before sucking the tip of Arthur’s cock into his mouth. 

“Fuck—” Arthur quickly grabs a hold of Merlin’s hair, then looks down to see Merlin’s blue eyes staring right back at him. “Shit. You’re such a tease, Merlin. Have you been planning this? Going around naked as if you know what it does to me.”

Merlin doesn’t smile because he can’t as he closes his lips tightly around Arthur’s dick and slides his mouth up and down slowly, but his eyes are laughing as he swirls his tongue over the head, then giving merciless little flicks of his tongue against the slit and moving down to suck Arthur’s balls into his mouth, leaving Arthur babbling nonsenses to the ceiling before he comes inside Merlin’s mouth in record time.

The next thing he’s aware of is of Merlin saying between puffs of laughter, “I can't believe you were smelling my pants, what kind of weird scent kink do you have?”

Arthur groans, turning his face to his pillow and murmuring a loud, “Shut up, Merlin!”

* * *

**70.**

**Inspired by:**[Gif #5](http://i.imgur.com/cM5FjDD.gif); [Sound #2](https://soundcloud.com/cheesymess/thunder)  
 **Pairing:** Arthur/Merlin  
 **Warnings:** None

"How would you feel," Merlin says abruptly, "about not touching my cock?" His head's dizzy and muddled, whirling with sights, sounds, and sensations just from Arthur's lips on his neck, and his cock is eager, encouraged by the warm, solid weight of Arthur's body. "And me not touching yours," he clarifies, then thinks to add, "I'm not sick or anything," in case Arthur’s wondering.

Arthur's big hands are bracketing Merlin's hips; Merlin can feel the heat of his palms, the imprint of each finger, straight through his jeans and tee. "I feel like I haven't dry-humped since I was a teenager and hadn't planned on doing it again," Arthur says. “But you have a talent for getting me to do things I hadn't planned on, don’t you?"

"Okay good, good.” Merlin’s hands are fisted in the small of Arthur's back, sleeves curled over his fingers like it's somehow going to help - he's used to a little psychic noise during sex, sure, and he knows how to handle it, but Arthur isn't a little noise, Arthur is a _roar_.

It’s raining outside Arthur’s flat, great sheets of water pouring down the windows. The steady rain adds to the drum-beat in Merlin’s head, in his blood; he wants Arthur’s body, and he wants more of whatever it is in Arthur’s soul that’s making his head spin. He does know better than to reach for it, though. He’s sure he does.

With his knee between Arthur’s thighs, Merlin rocks forward; Arthur’s hands glide up Merlin’s chest, fingertips brushing Merlin’s nipples. “This can be good, right?” Merlin whispers.

“Yes,” Arthur says, “yes,” and dips his head, aiming for Merlin’s lips.

That's probably a bad idea too, but Merlin can control his own power, he _can_ , and besides, if he pulls back now, Arthur's face will go from hurt to cool disinterest in the blink of an eye, and they'll spend the rest of the evening sat on the couch watching telly. So Merlin focuses on Arthur's lips, soft but deliciously insistent, and on the sound of the rain, because they're real, of this moment, and nothing to do with the precipice he's treading. 

It’s not enough. The longer they kiss, the more basic concepts like up and down feel vague concepts Merlin. Arthur must be off-balance too, because in the end they both fall to the sofa together.

Struggling to sit up - Merlin needs air, he needs just a little space - Merlin realises he's gripping his cock through his jeans, trying for some measure of control. Arthur's eyes fly to his hand at once, to the long, hard shape beneath it.

"Christ," Arthur breathes, "and you're not going to let me touch that?"

"You can touch it, just...." Merlin makes a gesture: jeans stay on.

Leaning in close, Arthur settles his wide, heavy palm over the base and flattens his fingers, pressing lightly against the tip. "I have to imagine the weight of it, then," he says conversationally, "the smoothness, the heat? What it feels like when it’s slick? I can do that."

It takes everything Merlin has not to bite the nape of Arthur's neck, bowed in front of him, but he manages to drop his forehead to Arthur’s shoulder instead. He slips his hands around Arthur’s waist, then lower, and is rewarded not with a twitch but with an absolute _jump_ of Arthur’s cock under his hand.

That simple reflex, that loss of restraint in Arthur, and Merlin’s own is shot.

“I should probably explain,” Merlin says, and he does, the words tumbling out of his mouth, unplanned. He wants Arthur to understand and give consent; he doesn’t know if it’s the need to feel Arthur’s skin against his that drives him, or if he’s simply desperate to sink deep into Arthur and drown in all his days. Either way, all Merlin can think of is pressing against him now, knee to groin to chest to mouth. He may never come up for air again.

“You’re saying if I pump your cock, you'll see my future?” There's no disbelief in Arthur’s voice; after all, they did meet through Morgana. But there’s laughter, and an echo of inevitability; Merlin skims his fingers over Arthur's and overhears the sudden clear thought, _It’s Merlin, of course it’s ridiculous._ “Maybe you’ll just see us having lots and lots of sex,” Arthur says out loud, grinning. But before Merlin can despair that he's not taking it seriously, Arthur shifts tone and says, "What about pasts? Because sometimes I feel like I may have a long one." 

"Those too," Merlin whispers, heart pounding in time with the rain. "Those too."

When Arthur locks his fingers with Merlin's, Merlin closes his eyes, and gets ready to fall.

* * *

**71.**

**Inspired by:** [Sound #2](https://soundcloud.com/cheesymess/thunder)  
 **Title:** Theatrics  
 **Pairing:** Merlin/Arthur  
 **Warnings:** possible dub-con (but not really)

As Arthur slops more paint onto the ugly wooden atrocity that’s supposed to represent a tree, he internally chastises himself for signing up with the theatre club. He’s in fucking university and he’s never been interested in acting before. That’s probably why he got stuck in the props department – his acting skills isn’t really up to par compared to the others.

He throws a quick glance at his watch. 8 pm on a fucking Friday night and he’s in a cramped prop room at school, surrounded by various butt-ugly set pieces for a play so obscure he’s never even heard of it. And it doesn’t look like–

At that moment, the very reason for Arthur’s strange theatre voluntary work stumbles into the room, and abruptly comes to a halt when he sees the blonde with the paint brush. His hair is black and his face a flushed red, as if finding Arthur crouched on the floor is something he needs to be embarrassed about.

“What...?”

“I volunteered. Elena had something she had to do today,” Arthur answers, “and apparently everyone else, too.”

It’s untrue, of course. Arthur asked to do some extra work, allowing him to stay late, because he guessed – hoped – that his crush would be here. He’s been waiting to get the other man alone for a long time – ever since the very first time he saw him, actually. He’d been sitting alone outside the philosophy department when a gorgeous, lean, dark-haired man had passed with a few friends. He had laughed at something they said, and that was it for Arthur. That laugh had ruined him.

Arthur had become slightly obsessed with the other man, and ever since he found out the guy’s name – Merlin – and that he spent most of his free time at the theatre club, he’d been looking for a way to get him for himself. And now, here they are.

Getting up and offering Merlin his hand, Arthur says, “I’m Arthur.”

“I know.”

When Merlin takes his hand, Arthur does something rash. Later, he’ll blame it on nerves and Merlin’s damn smile. He pulls Merlin in and clashes their lips together. There are a few very awkward seconds before Merlin kisses him back. But he does, and Arthur’s world as he knows it comes crashing down around him.

That’s not the only thing that comes crashing down, either, because suddenly there’s a loud thundering and the men spring apart, thinking that someone’s found them. Arthur looks around wildly. He can’t understand what made the sound, but Merlin starts to laugh and points to a thin metal sheet that’s lying in the middle of the floor.

“Cheap sound effects,” he huffs out between bouts of laughter.

Arthur doesn’t feel like discussing props. He’s already hard and the blood pounding in his ears makes him focus on the one thing he wants right now – Merlin. The long lashes, sharp cheekbones, messy hair, biteable neck. Eyes. Those fucking clear blue eyes.

Feverish with the desire to touch, lick, kiss Merlin, Arthur grabs his shoulders and presses him up against the nearest wall, holding him firmly in place with his body as his lips and hands try to claim every part of the other man as they can reach. It isn’t until he notices that his shirt is unbuttoned and half torn off his body that he realises that Merlin’s hands have been up to a similar activity as his.

“Fuck,” Arthur breathes as he struggles to get rid of the offending piece of clothing.

“Yeah. Please. Fuck me?” Merlin answers, his eyes gleaming with a mix of mirth and seriousness.

“Fuck... Yes!”

There’s a flurry of movement as they undress. Arthur hesitates for a moment before taking off his pants, but he needn’t have worried. Merlin finds something to use as a blanket to lie on and there he is, naked on his back, reaching out for Arthur like a needy child.

“Wow, you came prepared,” Merlin laughs, “Did you plan for this to happen?”

“Former boy scout,” Arthur answers as he rolls on a condom and slickens his fingers with lube.

Merlin just laughs, pulls him close and kisses him dizzy. When they fuck, it’s sticky and sweaty and Merlin starts to giggle and can’t stop when Arthur accidentally moans into his mouth. But it’s still okay because it’s Merlin’s laugh and that’s quickly becoming Arthur’s favourite thing in the world. He can’t be angry with Merlin when he laughs, and this... this is perfect.

* * *

**72.**

**Inspired by:** [Sound #2](https://soundcloud.com/cheesymess/thunder)  
 **Pairing:** Merlin/Arthur  
 **Warnings:** None

Had they not been in danger of committing one of the most dastardly crimes in the world of literature, the _cliché_ , one might have said that the night was dark and, indeed, stormy. Although the rain had yet to fall in torrents, there _were_ violent gusts of wind, and even though they didn’t exactly “rattle the housetops”, they seemed to be giving the window panes quite a battering.

Storms made Merlin nervous, Arthur remembered. A nervous Merlin was talkative, and restless, and fidgety, which made him, in Arthur’s opinion, the most annoying species of Merlin there was, even more than the Irritated Merlin, or even the Self-Satisfied Merlin. As far as Arthur knew, there was only one way to placate the Nervous Merlin, and that was…

“I’ve got your dinner, Sire,” Merlin said, bursting through the door and thoroughly interrupting Arthur’s train of thought. “I just finished polishing your armour, and I cleaned those clothes you ruined already — you should really be more careful when you’re eating — and I haven’t sharpened your sword yet, but I doubt you’ll be needing it, since we’re not going on any quests or anything, not with _this_ —” He gestured vaguely at the storm outside. “—running through the whole kingdom. Uh, but, dinner! Yes, dinner, I have it. So, here you go.”

Arthur rolled his eyes as his manservant hurriedly set a plate of food in front of him. “Are you alright, Merlin? You seem _a little_ nervous.”

“Me? Nervous? No, no, I’m fine, just absolutely fi—”

A booming roll of thunder caused Merlin to jerk, making him drop Arthur’s cutlery. He hastily stooped to pick it up, only to drop half of them again in an aftershock.

“Of _course_ you’re fine, _Merlin_ ,” Arthur said dryly, pushing away his untouched meal. “But if, for some silly reason, like a _thunderstorm_ , you weren’t alright, I’d be glad to help.”

Merlin stared for a moment, seeming to have forgotten the silverware he was holding. Then he abruptly set it down on the table and took a step back, shaking his head in a way that didn’t mean “yes”, but didn’t mean “no” either. “…What do you mean, ‘help’?” he asked suddenly.

Now it was Arthur’s turn to stare. “What do you _think_ I mean?”

Merlin didn’t reply.

“Oh God help me, Merlin. I mean _sex!_ We’ve only been doing it for _two years._ ”

His manservant shrugged and shook his head simultaneously, his face colouring. “I–I don’t know — it’s dark — there’s a knighting ceremony tomorrow — dinner’s still there, did you know? And—”

Another burst of thunder rang out. Merlin jumped again.

“Um, yes, actually. Yes, sex would be… good, yes,”

Arthur didn’t wait for him to change his mind. He stood up abruptly and grasped Merlin’s waist, pulling him close and pressing their lips together fiercely. A flash of lightning illuminated their bodies, and he felt Merlin’s tense immediately, but he began to relax when Arthur ran his hand up and down his spine underneath his tunic. Wordlessly, they stumbled over to the wall, where Arthur got rid of the tunic altogether before returning to his lover’s mouth, their kiss deepening.

“ _Arthur_ ” Merlin murmured, his voice low enough to rival the thunder. “I need…”

He didn’t have to complete his sentence for Arthur to understand. Within moments, they had stripped each other of all their clothing, and Arthur was sucking at Merlin’s neck. A second, brighter flash of lightning lit up the room, and Merlin half-whimpered, half-moaned, arching into Arthur eagerly. Arthur obliged without complaint, reaching down to grasp Merlin’s hard cock and rub the tip gently with his thumb.

“Do you like this, Merlin?” Arthur said, raising his voice to compete with the thunder that shook the window panes. “Should I stop?”

The other man shook his head, apparently unable to vocalize his response. His pale body was slick with sweat, making him glisten in the glow of distant lightning. Both of their cocks were so hard between them, throbbing in a way that made them feel as though they were going to burst. With one final thrust of his hips, Merlin came first, followed closely by Arthur, their seed mixing and staining their skin equally.

For a while, neither of them moved, feeling content to simply breathe and enjoy the afterglow. Eventually, Arthur pulled away and leaned against the wall next to Merlin, who was smiling.

“You know, Arthur,” he said, his eyes closed. “Thunderstorms really aren’t that bad, are they?”

* * *

**73.**

**Inspired by:** [Gif #4](http://i.imgur.com/3G2rMRQ.gif)4  
 **Pairing:** Merlin/Arthur  
 **Warnings:** Bondage, slight D/s, orgasm denial

 

The model was gangly and pale, dressed in baggy jeans and an obnoxious hipster T-shirt. Arthur almost immediately regretted hiring him, but—

But.

There was something there – he had a wonderfully expressive face, open and friendly. He smiled a goofy grin when shaking Arthur’s hand, and ran his long fingers through his hair, embarrassed, when introducing himself as,

“Merlin. And please, don’t laugh.”

“I’m not laughing,” Arthur said, smirking. 

Merlin cast him a dark look from underneath his lashes. He bit his lip, leaving a white imprint of teeth where they used to be plump and red and kissable. 

“Shall we begin?”

He was noisy. Arthur wasn’t sure if he enjoyed the constant chatter. Merlin talked about his life – a poor Med student down on his luck, needs the money, and so on – while he undressed himself. That might have been just to cover his nervousness, though.

The sight of Merlin’s naked body gave him a pause, because Merlin was _fit_. He was all long limbs and sharp angles and defined muscles, taut and visible beneath pale skin, with the occasional jutting bone to keep things interesting. There was a dusting of dark hair on his chest, travelling downwards to the base of his cock.

He was limp but holy hell, it was magnificent – long like the rest of him, wide as Arthur liked it, flushed deep red at the head. He longed—he had to get Merlin hard.

Merlin stood up tall, stark naked but oddly unselfconscious about it. He made no attempt to cover himself.

“Well?”

Arthur set to work.

He chose a silky-smooth colourless rope; closed his eyes and ran it through his fingers, familiarising himself with the texture. Merlin watched him, wary, when Arthur approached, and said,

“Kneel.”

Merlin knelt.

Arthur pressed his hand to Merlin’s should-blade and _felt_ it – velvety skin and firm muscle.  
Merlin shivered slightly but didn’t move otherwise, and Arthur smiled.

“Tell me if it starts hurting,” he said. Merlin nodded.

Arthur moved his palms over Merlin’s arms and slid them downwards, until he had Merlin’s narrow, bony wrists in his grip. He guided them backwards, more and more, watching for any sign of discomfort on Merlin’s part, and exhaled, happily, when Merlin’s elbows pressed together.

“I do yoga,” Merlin said, unprompted. He gave a shaky, breathless laugh. “Never knew I would use it like that, though.”

Arthur smiled. He smoothed his thumbs over Merlin’s forearms and his lovely, lovely hands; and then took the rope and wove it around them, adding knots for decoration rather than practicality because Merlin seemed intent on sitting motionless.

He guided Merlin into spreading his knees apart and sitting down on his bare arse, his feet pressed to the either side of his buttocks. That left his balls lying on the floor and his cock, half-way interested, pointing slightly downwards. Arthur made quick work of tying his legs in this position, and then paused.

“Do you mind?” he said, hand hovering near Merlin’s cock. He looked at his face for the first time, and was slightly taken back – Merlin was flushing, his mouth open and his breathing rapid and shallow, his eyes glossy with pleasure.

“By all means,” he said in a strained voice. “Help yourself.”

Arthur took him fully in hand and stroked, feeling Merlin’s cock hardening deliciously under his touch. It was, indeed, lovely – he squeezed some lotion onto the shaft, relishing in Merlin’s sharp hiss, and moved quicker, easier now, pumping him fast-paced and restless.

“I’m going to—“ he began, but Merlin shook his head slightly, eyes pressed shut and mouth wide open.

He moaned, loudly – God, he was loud – when Arthur slipped a metal ring onto his cock, holding him erect but unable to come. 

Arthur sat back and admired the view – tight rope, Merlin’s pale body and the dark, angry red of the long curve of his cock – and found his hand drifting to his own dick, painfully neglected but just as hard.

Merlin caught the movement and opened his eyes, nearly black with pleasure. He smiled and said,

“Sure, what the hell, go ahead,”

\--and Arthur, with a groan, unzipped his fly and pumped himself until he was coming, embarrassingly soon, all over Merlin’s chest.

It took him a while to come back to his senses, just in time to hear Merlin say,

“I thought you were an artist?”

“You know, Merlin,” Arthur said, wonderingly, “I think I am.”

* * *

**74.**

**Inspired by:** [Sound #1](https://soundcloud.com/cheesymess/phone-vibrating)  
 **Pairing:** Arthur/Merlin  
 **Warnings:** powerplay

Merlin felt the buzz before he heard it, but muffled though the sound was through his pants pocket, every head in the conference room snapped to him as it the unmistakable sound of a phone on vibrate echoed through the room. 

"Um, sorry." was all Merlin could say, flushing red. Phones were strictly not allowed in Pendragon Corp. meetings. Quickly as he could, Merlin excused himself from the room. He wouldn't have brought it at all, except that Arthur had him on a kind of 24-7 notice to be available at all times. Surely enough, it was Arthur calling. Merlin sighed. Now he just had to _find_ the prat, as Arthur seemed to think Merlin had some kind of magic that allowed him to know the exact location of his boss at all times. Fortunately, this time he had no such problem, as he turned the corner toward his cubicle, a solid Arthur mass blocked his way. 

"Follow me." Arthur commanded. Merlin sighed again. This wasn't exactly his job, to trail Arthur's every step, but he often found himself doing so often enough anyway. 

He followed Arthur into a small room, illuminating the space with a flick of the lightswitch. Harsh flourescent bulbs revealed two lines walled with file cabinets, four drawers high and black. He shuddered; having spent a good part of the previous week up to his ears in documents and shard-edged manila files, it was all to easy to imagine being consumed by one of these things. 

Arthur broke Merlin’s train of thought as he shucked his jacket, tossing it up on to the cabinet nearest the door, and hoisted himself up onto the adjacent one, his back to the wall, springing off the balls of his feet and lifting up to perch himself on the edge. His feet banged a little on the front drawers as he settled into the wall and smiled, charming, down at Merlin. Clearly, he was supposed to be impressed by this casual show of muscle and Merlin might have been, once, before he knew that any time Arthur made a show of bravado it meant that he was trying _not_ to betray something else. 

Merlin waited for the other shoe to drop.

“So, I think you should blow me”

“Arthur, did you really break me out of a company meeting for a _booty call_?”

Arthur shrugged, biting down on his lower lip. It was an overt attempt to seem casual and it should have been infuriating, but just as the harsh fluorescent office lights seemed to highlight everyone's minor imperfections Merlin could see something else there too, a sort of hopeful uncertainty that was a stark contrast to the Armani suit and crisp red tie. 

Merlin should have just walked away- he was _not_ Arthur's servant, after all- but then he'd always had trouble saying 'no' when it came to any of his so-called boss' demands. 

So he unbuckled Arthur’s belt in a frustrated sort of way, making sure that his eye contact betrayed nothing but pure exasperation. Arthur, for his part, looked satisfied, if not a little confused when Merlin proceeded to peel his pants and boxers all the way off. He didn’t say anything, though, and even lifted his hips to help, because even though this wasn’t exactly _necessary_ for a blow job he understood that Merlin enjoyed being good at his job and took pride in being _very_ thorough. 

Merlin shoved Arthur's naked bottom back toward the wall. He thought about saying something cute or biting, but fixing his eyes on Arthur's he saw not satisfaction, but a little something like desperation. He smirked in the way he knew Arthur liked, and swallowed his boss' proud, flushed cock in one go. 

"Merlin," Arthur moaned "Merlin, _please_." 

Smiling around Arthur's cock, Merlin sucked eagerly. He ran his tongue down from the base of Arthur's cock to the crown, before diving down again to take him deep. Raising one hand onto the cabinets, he pushed himself on and off Arthur's cock again and again, until they were panting in unison. It wasn't long until Merlin felt Arthur's hot release sliding down his throat. 

"That's it," Arthur panted "Swallow it all for me"

Merlin did, as he always would, to best serve his boss.

* * *

**75.**

**Inspired by:** [Gif #2](http://i.imgur.com/injACeD.gif)  
 **Pairing:** Arthur/Merlin  
 **Warnings:** None

"Just like old times." Arthur had said, when he'd asked Merlin to assist him getting ready for bed. But it was nothing like old times, the exhilarating feeling Merlin felt as he got Arthur out of his shirt, knowing the rumours, about King Arthur's inked skin. A king’s pledge to the druids, to magic. His breath caught in his throat as the tattoo was revealed. 

"Like what you see?" Arthur asked, sitting down lazily on the bed so the mark on his left shoulder was right in front of Merlin.

"Did it hurt?"

"Yes." Arthur answered, sounding stupidly smug about that. 

"I wish I had been there." Merlin whispered. 

The look in Arthur's eyes spoke volumes. 'I wish you'd have been here too.' Instead he said, "You're here now."

A true knight does not live in the past. The two years they spent apart from each other had been necessary. Once his magic had been outed, he wasn’t safe in Uther's kingdom. Arthur might have fought for him but Merlin never wanted bloodshed in his name. 

Merlin traced the drawing: the dragon, the circle - symbol of magic. And a name.

"Can you read runes?" Arthur asked. 

"Emrys," Merlin read, throat dry.

"Druids told me Emrys is my destiny. That I will give him everything and he will give me everything in return. Through the bond, Camelot will be bound to magic forever"

"Hmmm..." Merlin's mind returned to a distant time, a dragon telling him Arthur was his destiny.

"I haven't married. I'm waiting for destiny." Arthur said softly. 

Merlin looked down from the sincere expression in Arthur's eyes. It was too much too soon. Instead, his eyes fell on the bulge in Arthur's smallclothes. With a small grin he said: "Is that why you're horny? Or are you just happy to see me?"

"Gods, Merlin," Arthur growled, grabbing Merlin's hand and rubbing it against his hardening cock. Merlin happily complied, stroking Arthur through the fabric while untangling the laces. Once Arthur's cock sprang free, Merlin kneeled to take it into his mouth, the taste still achingly familiar from long-ago hunting trips.

Arthur soon moaned, bucking into Merlin's mouth, "Stop, stop, or I'll come."

"Thought that was the point," Merlin said, breathless and happy to find Arthur so responsive at his ministrations.

 

Arthur pulled away and Merlin stopped grinning, mouth falling open instead as Arthur leaned against the headboard, legs spread obscenely wide, bottle of oil in hand to moisten his fingers. Arthur held Merlin's gaze as he pushed a finger inside. Another followed, the finger on which he wore his ring. Watching it disappear in the cleft of Arthur's hole, Merlin's breath stuttered.

"Will you take me tonight, Merlin?" Arthur asked finally. Body loose and relaxed, Arthur looked at Merlin with an open, eager expression.

"What..." 

"I want you inside me." Arthur spelled out. 

Merlin's mind was reeling, trying to grasp what Arthur was offering. He used to pleasure his prince with his mouth, Arthur jerking him off in return, but _this_ was better than any fantasy that kept Merlin awake during two years of self-imposed exile.

He tore off his tunic, smallclothes quickly following. The smile on Arthur's face told Merlin his hair was standing up in even more directions than usual. He nearly jumped onto the mattress, crawling between Arthur's legs.

"Some enthusiasm! Here I thought I hadn't properly seduced you." Arthur said smiling confidently.

Merlin had dreamed about kissing Arthur again after their time apart, he'd imagined gentle, meaningful kisses, not the urgency with which Arthur now guided his cock into his waiting hole. 

Merlin lost himself in the sensation, barely registering the flicker of pain in Arthur’s face. It soon morphed into pleasure, Arthur urging Merlin to go faster, deeper. Merlin did, taking Arthur’s cock in hand and bringing him off in sharp tugs, matching the rhythm of his hips. 

Awed by Arthur’s beautifully blissful afterglow, Merlin's thrusts grew desperate, but it wasn't until fingers danced across his ribs, nails almost scratching, the metal of a ring cold on his skin, that he came with a sob.

Coming down from his high, Merlin mindlessly licked and sucked the marked skin on Arthur’s shoulder, wanting to commit the feel of it to memory. 

Arthur stroked his hair, muttering fond endearments and then suddenly, "My Emrys…" 

Merlin froze. He looked up at Arthur. "You know I'm Emrys?”

“Who else could it be but you," Arthur said, voice full of loving, silencing any more questions with a kiss.

* * *

**76.**

**Inspired by:** [Image #5](http://i.imgur.com/c2KgTyr.jpg)  
 **Pairing:** Gwaine/Lancelot, Gwaine/Morgana, Gwaine/Arthur, Gwaine/Elyan  
 **Warnings:** None

He visits Lancelot in Barcelona and they drive up the coast to Dalí's house, but what Gwaine will remember is his legs bracketting Lancelot's on the moped, and the tiny coastal village where they eat lunch under grey skies.

It rains on the way back and they detour to Lancelot's hometown and get pissed with his cousins. Gwaine wakes on a futon with Lancelot's beer breath on his cheek, his cock getting friendly with Gwaine's thigh. He wriggles against him. Lancelot knows what a slut he is. He's always had this urge to imprint himself on everyone he knows or takes a fancy to.

Lancelot hums into Gwaine's neck, his hips moving purposefully. Neither can be arsed to do it properly, but they push their trousers down enough to rut against each other. Lancelot surprises him by nudging his mouth open and kissing him passionately, sharing tongue and hot breath as they try not to groan too loudly and wake up the house.

Lancelot gives him a Polaroid camera at the airport. He's got puppy dog eyes and a near-constant boner and if Gwaine wasn't expected in Mexico, he'd stay. At the gate, he reaches for his ID and pulls out a Polaroid of Lancelot's dick, right in front of a flight attendant who laughs and winks at him.

*

Gwaine has a couple days in Acapulco, so he hits the beaches and bars. A woman buys him a drink, since he's the first Irishman she's seen in six months. He likes the way she orders Scotch, and her Louboutin stilettos look dangerous and sexy.

They fuck like animals back at her luxury apartment: Morgana on her hands and knees on the bed while he stands. In the shower he slides to his knees and sucks her clit until she screams, nails digging into his shoulders while she grinds against his face. She swears his beard feels amazing on her cunt but lets him shave in the mirrored bathroom. The maid'll clean it up, she says.

He takes pictures on the beach at sunset, both of them naked, laughing at his penis flopping in the waves, Morgana cupping her breasts with a saucy grin. He photographs her asleep too. She looks younger, the shadow of old pain gone, dark hair curling over her shoulder.

*

Cairo's a new city for him and he can't even enjoy it. Arthur's the most anal reporter Gwaine's ever worked with. Gwaine just wants to tell him shut up and let him _do his job_.

What's worse is Arthur has lived there a year and knows a lot. Gwaine finds himself picking up history books and reading government reports, just so he can keep up with Arthur's rapid-fire commentary. 

Then their story gets picked up by the AP. They're sleep-deprived and high from checking the constant stream of praise and criticism on Twitter. Arthur pushes him back and Gwaine's about to snark about his damn personal bubble, when he realizes Arthur's unbuckling his belt and his knees go weak. The floor is hard and cold and he leans back, mind blank as Arthur deepthroats him, his hands cupping Gwaine's balls and kneading into his crack.

He takes a lot of pictures with Arthur. Not his face, but his cock fucking Gwaine's hole, spreading his arsecheeks open to show how loose he is, legs in the air, on his back, on his front, at a club, the apartment, a party where they slip away to the host's bedroom.

Then the revolution's over, and Arthur goes home to his family.

*

He's half-listening to Elyan on the way to the apartment, his head out the window, sniffing the humid green air. It smells like home, but he's already missing the smoky, sandy Cairo air, the sound of men yelling, the call to prayer resounding between stone walls.

He pushes Elyan up against the door, rucks his shirt up and smoothes his palms over Elyan's sinewy body, finding familiar curves.

"Missed you," Elyan's breath whooshes out as Gwaine sinks down on his cock. He savors it, going slow and using his tongue on the head, swallowing everything. 

Gwaine's too wired for sleep. It's too quiet anyway. He spills out his pack on Elyan's pristine table. He's gotten good at traveling light, at leaving things behind. There's a couple envelopes jammed at the bottom, away from customs officials' greedy fingertips. He opens them and spreads out the Polaroids.

Elyan will get up soon. He'll come over and tut at the mess, eat the dates Gwaine brought, and peruse the photos.

"So," he'll ask, smiling, "Who's this?"

* * *

**77.**

**Inspired by:** [Image #4](http://i.imgur.com/5Hy8VB3.jpg)  
 **Pairing:** Merlin/Arthur  
 **Warnings:** None 

Merlin was drowning. 

He had fought to stay above the water, but had still been dragged under. His body hurt from being thrown around in the ocean and was screaming from the lack of oxygen he was now receiving. He didn’t know what way was up anymore. 

He still tried to hold his breath, body burning with the need for air but knowing that if he opened his mouth the water would rush in. 

There was a flash of movement beside him but Merlin couldn’t look and see. 

Something brushed against him and with what little strength he had left he tried to twist his body away, instinctively curling in on himself. Then, what felt like hands were wrapping around his arms and Merlin couldn’t do anything. His head pounded and he could feel his mouth opening to suck in air even though his brain was screaming at him not to.

Instead of water burning its way through his throat there was another mouth on his, a source of warmth when everything around him felt cold. Air was being pushed into his lungs and Merlin sucked it up greedily, arms curling around broad shoulders. He could feel himself being pulled closer as heat spread through him.

Something brushed against Merlin’s legs, long and sleek as the man holding him started pushing them towards the surface.

OOooOOooOO

Merlin’s flat was small. The living space was only separated from the kitchen by an island where Merlin often ate. There wasn’t much space to begin with but to Merlin it had never felt cramped. Not until a supernatural creature stood in the middle of it watching him expectantly.

The creature happened to be Arthur, a guy Merlin had been running into frequently for the past year. He’d introduced himself when Merlin had split coffee on him.

Arthur had pulled him out of the water and onto the beach. Merlin had watched as gold scales had rippled across his skin and what had looked like a tale had faded away leaving pink flesh and two legs. Merlin could have blamed it on the oxygen deprivation. It would have made it easier if he had explained it away as a trick of the light.

He didn’t though. Merlin knew what he’d seen. 

It was too ridiculous to say aloud but it didn’t make it any less true. Merlin never thought he’d have to deal with mermaids, or one particular merman who had told him that he’d been following Merlin for the past year because Merlin was his mate. 

He didn’t ask if Arthur was sure, he could feel it. It was like an invisible rope binding him to Arthur, pulling him closer. It had been there since Arthur had kissed him under the water, helping him to breathe. 

“Why didn’t you say anything sooner?” Merlin asked.

Arthur’s lips twisted into a sardonic smile, “Yes, I could see that going over quite well. ‘Hello Merlin, I was born in the sea and you are the other half of my soul. Would you like a cup of coffee?’” His fingers brushing across the pair of sleep trousers Merlin had given him to wear as he admitted. “I didn’t want to scare you off.”

OOooOOooOO

He had given Arthur a spare pillow and blanket and had told him he could sleep on the couch tonight.

He was still having trouble processing the whole mermaid mate thing. A quick google search hadn’t turned up anything useful, but Merlin hadn’t expected it to. He could ask Arthur but he wasn’t quite ready to jump into that yet. 

Merlin was exhausted, even after a quick shower he could still smell the salt on his skin, but he couldn’t sleep. His body felt alive and if he concentrated he could sense Arthur nearby. It was equal parts terrifying and amazing. 

Merlin closed his eyes and slowly reached down, palming himself, remembering the way the gold scales had rippled across Arthur’s skin. He bit his bottom lip to keep himself quiet, all too aware of how thin his walls were and not wanting to wake Arthur. He grew harder picturing the way Arthur’s blonde hair, drying from the water and falling into his eyes as he had sat down on the couch. 

The bond flared to life and Merlin could feel Arthur, his arousal echoing Merlin’s. Merlin threw an arm over his eyes as he felt his balls tighten up and gold scales flashed across his own skin as he came. 

“Shit,” he breathed out and heard Arthur laugh.

* * *

**78.**

**Inspired by:** [Sound #2](https://soundcloud.com/cheesymess/thunder)  
 **Pairing:** Arthur/Merlin  
 **Warnings:** Past character death (canon stuff)

Arthur stood on a shore, watching a storm roll in over the lake. He counted the beats between the lightning and thunder, like he had as a child, and when there were only three beats, the rain started. 

He faced the sky, letting the fat, cool raindrops wash over him. As the storm grew violent, an awareness settled in, he looked into the grayness and realised he didn’t know anything, didn't know where he was, or how he'd got there. He knew nothing, except this storm, and he felt alone. And that felt very wrong, because he never felt alone, because of... and then he knew one more thing - Merlin.

He shouted the name into the storm and again, until he heard something or maybe it was only in his head. _'Arthur, oh god. Where are you?'_

"Merlin! I'm here."

"Arthur..." He turned to Merlin, who stood there mouth open, blinking rapidly as the rain pounded against his face. "You - how'd you know you had to call to me for the spell to work?"

"Spell?"

"It doesn't matter. It worked. I'm here... Arthur..." He sobbed and yanked Arthur into an embrace with such ferocity that they stumbled, and Arthur clung back, feeling right again.

"We don't have much time." Merlin whispered. "Do you remember?"

"I don't..." But then he did and he gasped.

Merlin pulled back. "I'm so sorry. I tried to save you... and to wait for you and - but I let you die -"

"Stop! I remember. Camlann. Morgana. Mordred. And you..." Arthur watched the rain drip off Merlin's eyelashes, wanted to brush them away and sweep away the pain in his eyes. "You being everything. _You_ didn't let me die. And I'm not dead now... am I?"

Merlin looked even sadder.

"Oh... but you're here to take me home...?"

"Arthur... no. Home isn't... it's been an awfully long time."

"How long? It feels like... I don’t even know."

"Very long. Everyone's... gone."

"Are you... too?"

"No! I'm alive. Mostly... went a bit mad.” He laughed. “Turned into a nutter, living in a cave, muttering obscenities to myself. Someone... she found me - helped me get here - into Avalon - get to you. But only for a short while. I have to go and..."

"I have to stay." Merlin nodded. "Then why did she...?"

"She owed me - us... we have unfinished business, she said."

"Unfinished business?"

Merlin shrugged, looking shy. "Was there anything you didn't say or...?"

Arthur remembered dying in Merlin's arms, looking into his eyes, yearning and loving and never wanting to leave him. "I wanted to kiss you, but I died first."

And Arthur had intended to kiss him now, but Merlin lunged at him. His kiss started hard, but grew tender and filled with such sadness that it told Arthur more about the time he'd spent alive and alone than he ever could have with words. 

Arthur brought them to the ground, grinding against Merlin, his cock painfully hard, as if all the years of unresolved longing had filled it, demanding to be released.

Merlin rolled them over, possessive, needing it more. "Don't have much time," he said and Arthur relented, holding Merlin’s face, kissing him and letting Merlin undress them enough to press their cocks together. 

"This isn't the last time..." Merlin panted, stroking them, while Arthur sucked on his neck, wanting a mark to stay with him, his heart aching because he couldn't. "You're destined to come back... to me. I can wait... now." 

The storm continued to rage all around them, beating heavy rain against their bared skin. "Faster, Merlin." Merlin rested his forehead against Arthur's, his hand speeding up, twisting, and with the right amount of pressure. And, when a bolt of lightning struck so close that the electricity made Arthur's skin tingle, and the thunder vibrated through his bones and his cock, he came, only a few seconds before Merlin. 

As their warm come mingled and dribbled onto Arthur's stomach and his cock throbbed in Merlin's hand, Merlin said, his voice breaking with emotion, "You're coming back. And I’ll be waiting. Forever, if I have to."

The edges of the world turned fuzzy and Merlin's voice sounded like it was in his head again. He tried to talk, but had no voice. He didn't know how they'd ended up here, but he knew it had been a gift. He forced his eyes open one last time, unafraid and smiling, like he had once before, wordlessly telling Merlin, _'I'll see you again and next time we're going to be brilliant - together.'_


	4. Group D (warnings)

**79.**

**Inspired by:** [Sound #2](https://soundcloud.com/cheesymess/thunder)  
 **Pairing:** Merlin/Morgana  
 **Warnings:** None

**Thunder & Lightning**

* * *

**80.**

**Inspired by :** Image #4  
 **Pairing:** Merlin/Freya  
 **Warnings:** none

* * *

**81.**

**Inspired by:** [Sound #2](https://soundcloud.com/cheesymess/thunder)  
 **Pairing:** Merlin/Arthur  
 **Warnings:** None

* * *

**82.**

**Inspired by:** [Sound #3](https://soundcloud.com/cheesymess/stag) / [Image #1](http://i.imgur.com/WPoj0Et.jpg)  
 **Pairing:** Arthur/Merlin  
 **Warnings:** None

Summary: The King Stag takes his due at Beltane.

* * *

**83.**

**Inspired by:**[Image #3](http://i.imgur.com/XFkVoo4.jpg)  
 **Pairing:** Merlin/Arthur  
 **Warnings:** Nudity, Spanking

* * *

**84.**

**Inspired by:** [Sound #4](https://soundcloud.com/cheesymess/walking-on-gravel-soundbible) and [Image #2](http://i.imgur.com/TrLTbYH.jpg)  
 **Pairing:** Morgana/Morgause  
 **Warnings:** -

Merlin was wondering why Morgana was leaving in the middle of the night. He didn't see that one coming, though...

* * *

**85.**

**Inspired by:** [Sound #4](https://soundcloud.com/cheesymess/walking-on-gravel-soundbible)  
 **Pairing:** Morgana/Other - other could be anyone  
 **Warnings:** Three Panelled tumblr graphic of Morgana's angst due to a marriage not of her choosing, lyrics from "Joyful Girl" by Dave Matthews Band

* * *

**86.**

**Inspired by:** [Image #4](http://i.imgur.com/5Hy8VB3.jpg)  
 **Pairing:** Arthur/Merlin  
 **Warnings:** none

* * *

**87.**

**Inspired by :** [Image #4](http://i.imgur.com/5Hy8VB3.jpg)  
 **Pairing:** Merlin/Arthur

* * *

**88.**

**Inspired by :** [Gif](http://i.imgur.com/F8Vw5SJ.gif) [#3](http://i.imgur.com/SfiMqmh.gif)  
 **Pairing:** n/a  
 **Warnings:** n/a

* * *

**89.**

**Inspired by:** [Gif #2](http://i.imgur.com/injACeD.gif)  
 **Pairing:** Merlin/Arthur  
 **Warnings:** None

Arthur cannot control his reactions... and Merlin loves it.


	5. Group A (no warnings)

**1.**

Merlin looked at his mobile and groaned.

“What?” he answered, irritated.

“I don’t know why you’re being such a tosser about this. It’s not like you haven’t got the time.”

“Time isn’t the problem, Gwaine, I just don’t feel like swimming,” Merlin snapped. “And I’m not being a tosser, I’m assertively declining.”

“Yeah, yeah. It’s just not like you, is all. It’s scorching out today. I don’t see why—”

“You don’t have to see why, you just have to leave me alone."

"Alright, fine! But the guys'll be disappointed."

"Let them. Goodbye, Gwaine."

Merlin hung up and fought the urge to throw his mobile at the wall. Instead he just sighed, closed his eyes, and let his head fall back on the sofa. When he felt a dip in the cushion next to him, he opened them again.

"Hey," Arthur said. "Gwaine again?"

"Yeah."

"What'd he want?"

"Asked if we wanted to go swimming again today."

"It's nice out. Good day for it," Arthur remarked. He frowned. "But you don't want to?"

Merlin shrugged. "Not in the mood." Merlin leaned in and kissed under Arthur's jaw, running one hand up Arthur's thigh. "Why don't we take a cold shower to cool off instead?"

"That sounds nice." Arthur trailed his fingers down Merlin's arm and up his shirt, then turned his head to kiss him properly. 

They didn't make it to the shower. The clothes came off but then Merlin pushed Arthur back onto the bed and straddled him.

"Shower can wait," Merlin said, sucking Arthur's nipple and drawing out a moan. "We're not nearly dirty enough yet." He kissed his way down Arthur's stomach and finally took Arthur's cock in his mouth.

"Trust me, Merlin, with a mouth like that, you're absolutely filthy," Arthur sighed and thrust his hips up. Merlin hummed around the thick length and took even more of it down.

He didn't suck Arthur for long, just enough for his jaw to start aching and for Arthur to start breathing like an asthmatic. Then he hurriedly retrieved the lube, straddled Arthur once again, and with their combined fingers they worked Merlin open. Arthur rested his hands on Merlin's hips as Merlin lowered himself onto Arthur's cock.

"Fuck," Arthur exhaled. "Who needs swimming, we've got air conditioning and a nice tub right here. Come on, love, ride me, ride my cock."

Merlin anchored his hands on Arthur's shoulders and began to rock back and forth, rolling his hips in smooth motions. He started slow, moaning the occasional "Mmm, yeah Arthur, that's good, so good, _fuck_ " but soon increased his speed and the force with which he impaled himself on Arthur's dick. Rocking gave way to all out bouncing and Arthur's hands relocated to Merlin's back.

Arthur didn't have to pull Merlin closer. Merlin knew what Arthur wanted and leaned forward to give Arthur an open-mouthed kiss. As the intensity increased Arthur dug his fingernails into Merlin's skin and began to thrust his hips upwards, meeting Merlin in the middle so that Merlin felt Arthur deep inside him. Merlin's cock slapped Arthur's stomach between them and leaked precome on Arthur's sweaty skin.

Merlin knew when Arthur was about to come because Arthur dragged his fingernails down Merlin's back and he felt it as his old scars were reopened. The last spike of pain mixed with pleasure and Merlin came shortly after.

In the shower, Merlin tried to strategically keep himself behind Arthur, but Arthur caught on right away and spun Merlin around.

"What the hell, Merlin, it's like you don't want me to—Oh."

Arthur placed his hand on Merlin's back just below his rib-cage and reverently wiped the dripping blood away. Merlin's back was covered with long, skinny cuts, some faded but a few only minutes old.

"Is this why you won't go swimming?"

Merlin turned and raised his hand to cup Arthur's cheek and gave him a reassuring smile.

"It's fine. If it were Gwaine's lake house or a private pool, I'd go. But it's difficult to explain to anyone else..."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't want you to feel guilty. So what if I can't walk around shirtless?"

"Are you sure?”

“It’s just swimming, Arthur. I’m sure. Now turn around so I can wash this beautiful arse of yours.”

* * *

**2.**

Smells of a thunderstorm, Arthur thinks briefly as he ducks out of the carriage.

"My Lord," the butler intones from his place at the front of a line of servants, "may I present to you His Grace, the Duke of Albion."

But Gwaine's already taken three swift strides across the gravel drive and enveloped Arthur in a firm embrace. "Good to see you, Princess," he says into Arthur's ear.

Arthur grins. He already feels better.

\---

The first morning, Arthur wakes to the sound of his borrowed—and ridiculously named, honestly— valet tripping over something.

"Gwaine _would_ give me the clumsy one," he mumbles into his pillow, trusting Merlin at least has decorum and will refrain from—

"Don't be so quick to judge, Your Grace." Arthur grunts in disbelief and turns his head just enough to see Merlin's grinning face. "These hands, I've heard tell, have magic in them."

\---

At the first touch, the first brush of Merlin's fingers against his neck as he—expertly, indeed—ties Arthur's cravat, the lightning crashes into Arthur.

But, always mindful, he resists.

For nearly a fortnight, at least.

\---

"Merlin!" he shouts, rapping on their connecting door. "Get your lazy arse in here and draw my bath!"

There are scrambling noises, then the door opens, and Arthur finds his face scant inches from Merlin's. "I'm sorry, Your Grace," Merlin says, slightly out of breath. "I was told you wouldn't be needing me tonight." 

God must truly hate Arthur, truly, because he's a bit drunk and Merlin is flushed and in his nightclothes and _right bloody there_.

Arthur's been checkmated since two moves into the match.

\---

"Your Grace…" The hissed plea has a hint of command in it, and Arthur finds he rather likes it. "You— We mustn't."

"No," Arthur agrees as he tumbles them down onto the bed, then captures Merlin's lips again, rearranging clothes and learning new lines.

"Your Grace…" Merlin tries again, his voice catching as Arthur fits their hips together. Arthur makes a disapproving noise, nips at Merlin's neck as he starts up a delicious, rough slide. He feels Merlin swallow, then try again. "Pendragon…"

Arthur laughs into his skin. "Arthur, all right? For the love of God, man, I have a name and I'd expect you'd want to use it at a time like this."

Merlin's eyes flash. "I am your servant, Your Grace—"

Arthur stops him right quickly. "If you think that is the only reason I have you here in my bed—" He stops, because Merlin's expression makes it clear that that _is_ what Merlin believes.

"Oh, Merlin," he says quietly. "You have no idea, do you?"

Merlin's eyes narrow. "Of what?"

"Of the power you hold over me. Of how my life these past two weeks has been, for the first time since my father died, something more than simply palatable."

"Sir Gwaine—"

"Is not the first person I wish to see every more, nor the last person I wish to see every night." He strokes a thumb over Merlin's cheekbone. "So, Mr Emrys—" He registers Merlin's startled expression with pleasure. "It's Arthur, if you please."

Merlin hesitates. "But that's your Christian name. This is hardly Christian."

Arthur's jaw tightens, just for a moment. "Oh, I think God wouldn't have made us this way if not—" He lifts his hips, reaches down, and circles them both with his palm. "—for pleasure."

"For pleasure, yes, but— Arthur— Oh—"

They're both close, and mad with it. "But what?"

Merlin's hand covers his; shared breath runs hot between their lips. "Not for anything more."

"No, of course not," he agrees roughly, their hands moving quickly, desperately.

Merlin's voice, as he captures Arthur's lips fiercely, is barely a wrecked murmur. "Nothing more than this."

 _Which is everything_ , Arthur thinks with blinding clarity as his body climaxes.

\---

They fall into each other, a lumpy pile of man on an abused bed.

"Merlin," Arthur finally drawls quietly, happiness making him quite the cake.

"Yes, Your Grace?"

Arthur gathers him closer, slotting their legs together, feeling their hearts slow in tandem. "How would you feel about a change of employer?"

Merlin's head comes up, and Arthur waits as he searches out the sincerity in Arthur's visage. A slow smile spreads across his face when he finds it. "Depends on the pay, I expect."

Arthur guffaws outright, and then tumbles them once more into the sheets.

* * *

**3.**

_Before Fyrien..._

Gravel crunched beneath Elyan's boots. The sound echoed across two small fields, bouncing off the dense forest encircling them. It carried all the way to a hut tucked up against the green edge of the trees. 

A warning sound, a homecoming sound.

Elyan feet hurt from standing all day at the forge, his back and shoulders from the rise and fall of the hammer, and there was soot on his skin that could barely be seen in the failing light. But he was home.

Thunderheads boiled across the sky as he picked his way down the path between the carefully tended fields and put his hand on the door. The first spatters of rain chased him inside.

The man inside looked up and smiled.

"Welcome home." Percival set aside the pan he was using to cook something that smelled like rabbit and came over to brush raindrops off Elyan's shoulders and plant a kiss on the corner of his mouth. "You're just in time for supper."

****

Rain poured off the eaves and lightning flashed through the cracks in the shutters. Elyan gasped into Percival's mouth, riding up and down with his thighs burning and Percy's hands on his hips, holding him at just the right angle so he saw stars every time his eyes slipped closed. 

It was good, so good, Percy hard and thick inside him, hot to the very core of him. The words were on the tip of Elyan's tongue - _perfect_ and _more_ and _please let me stay_ \- but he couldn't push them out past his lips. Instead, he let the rising whine in his throat speak for him as his balls tightened. Outside, thunder rolled.

Percy spoke little during the day, but at night like this he never stopped. "So good for me, Elyan. So open." 

Elyan half sobbed as Percy's hands forced his hips to twist on a downward stroke - he loved it, and Percy always knew what he loved, even if he couldn't speak.

"That's it, so beautiful. Come for me, Elyan. Come on my cock."

With a high sound that was nearly a scream, Elyan did. Tightening down made Percival's cock feel even bigger, and Elyan's release made him feel light, like he'd float away without that anchor.

Later, they spooned on the bed, their legs tangled and Percival wrapped round Elyan, one hand tucked over Elyan's heart.

For all the time he'd spent running, Elyan felt safe here, in the hut with the impenetrable wall of forest around it and the gravel-strewn path to warn them if anyone approached.

****

In the end, they didn't take him from home, and they weren't who he was expecting. A king's men, but the wrong king. They grabbed Elyan from the market in the early morning light as he picked his way between stalls. They had a bag over his head before he could shout.

****

_After Fyrien..._

Elyan thought about sending a note, but Gwen would have to write it for him, and who could he pay to take it? Besides, it had been weeks by then. The little hut on the edge of the forest was probably getting on just fine without him. He had to build a place for himself here in Camelot, where they had no blacksmith. Had to rebuild the fires of his father's forge. The little hut had been a brief few months of happiness, and now it was over.

At night, he slept on the floor by Gwen's bed and knew he was a liar.

****

Rocks fell, miraculously cutting them off from the enemy. Elyan looked up and sucked in a sharp breath.

Above the ravine, larger than life and carrying a sword, was Percival. His face was unreadable.

****

In the abandoned hall of the kings, Percy leaned up his elbow and watched Elyan shiver. Wordlessly he lifted his blanket, and for all the questions on the tip of Elyan's tongue, he crawled over quickly, tucking his back against Percy's chest. Warmth seeped through him almost immediately, easing his tight muscles.

Percy slipped an arm around his waist. His breath ghosted over Elyan's ear. "Townspeople said you got taken."

"Yeah," Elyan rasped.

"I looked everywhere. How'd you get out?"

"Arthur and Merlin." _And Morgana,_ he didn't say.

Percy tightened his hold. "I'll fight for them. They fought for you."

"Yeah." Elyan put his hand over Percy's, where it pressed against his heart. Maybe it was time he fought a little harder for himself.

* * *

**4.**

There were three things on this thunder-filled night for which Arthur was thankful: (1) house-sitting for Gwaine and Percival instead of being trapped in his own leaky-roofed home; (2) his hosts had the best porn collection this side of London _and_ he had orders to make the most of it; and (3) he hadn’t had a hard-on of this magnitude in months. 

Arthur sat at Gwaine’s desk, tipping the chair back with his foot. He slid his hand under the tight waistband of his denims to thumb his aching, weeping cock. Each stroke made him spasm but he held back, not wanting to come yet. The pressure, bordering this side of painful, was a poor substitute for being balls-deep inside some hot and willing guy, but he’d not been lucky on that score in way too long.

He was convinced Gwaine pitied him, hence the invite to house-sit.

The video zoomed in to focus on the thick cock slamming into the well-used hole of the dark-haired sub on his knees, come dripping down his thigh as he desperately tried to stay still for his master. Arthur’s moans matched the sub’s as he ‘fought’ against the invasion, his whimpers cascading down Arthur’s spine as he stroked himself. 

It happened all at once. Stretching back, Arthur pulled his cock out, his foot slipped, the chair fell backward and the house shook as lightening flashed and thunder boomed. As he hit the floor he thought he heard chimes, and then everything went black.

* * *

Arthur groaned. A cat meowed. Merry stabs of pain shot through his head. Someone yelled _oh fuck yes_. 

Arthur forced his eyelids open and stared up into four of the bluest eyes he’d ever seen. He rubbed his eyes and looked again, this time realizing he must’ve seen double. Only one set looked down at him, and they belonged to a black-haired stranger. Embarrassment on being caught out shot through Arthur but the stranger just looked down at Arthur’s cock, half-out of his denims, come pooling on his belly, and smiled.

Fuck.

The stranger’s mouth twitched. “Who are you?”

Arthur knew he should lie but found himself saying, “Arthur.”

The stranger’s gaze fixed on his cock. “Need help, Arthur?”

“No kidding.” 

He started to get up but the stranger’s hand shot out, stopping him. “Let me.”

The stranger pulled the chair out of the way and straddled his thighs. Before Arthur could protest, his cock was freed and the stranger’s hot mouth had engulfed him.

All reason fled then as the stranger’s considerable skill forced all thoughts of protest from Arthur’s mind. The stranger hummed and purred against the cock head as he sucked on it, his nimble fingers deftly playing over the shaft like a flute. Other fingers forced themselves deeper beneath his denims, sharp nails scratching as they teased his balls, rolling them and pulling on them and invading Arthur as no one had ever done before.

 _Fuck_.

“Who... who are you.”

Thunder rumbled overhead, drowning whatever answer might’ve come. Arthur grasped the stranger’s head, holding it, forcing him to engulf Arthur’s entire shaft. He fucked the stranger’s mouth, spasming as teeth slid over sensitive skin, nails sank into his balls, his hole breached, making him buck. Arthur’s head still pounded but he didn’t care, pleasure winning over pain as the stranger skillfully sucked Arthur into release. 

Arthur squeezed his eyes shut and whimpered, writhing on the floor as his body spasmed one last time. The stranger pulled away, making Arthur cry out from abandonment.

_“My name is Merlin.”_

Lightning cracked. Lights flashed. Arthur gasped and covered his eyes. When he opened them again, he was alone.

* * *

_Three days later._

“So, how’d you enjoy the weekend?” Percival asked as he unloaded the back seat. 

“He means how’d you like the porn,” Gwaine yelled from the boot.

Arthur coughed. “I was kind of busy, actually.” 

Percival clapped him on the shoulder. “That was the idea, mate.”

“So which one did you get off to--” 

“Hush, Gwaine.” Percival grinned. “By the way, hope you found the cat. Forgot to tell you about him.”

Gwaine snorted. “Perc here wouldn't stop fretting, wanted to drive all the way to the nearest station to call you but I told him you’d figure it out if it showed up wailing for food.”

Arthur turned and stared at Percival. “Cat? What cat?”

“Just a stray I found,” Percival said, tossing him a backpack to carry inside. “I call him Merlin.”

* * *

**5.**

Gwaine growled deep in his throat. This wasn’t real, was it? The black-haired bloke in the seat across from him on the train was clearly fondling his massive dick through his jeans! Of course he could have gotten up and found a different seat, but hey, when you got a show like this, you just didn’t leave. 

He licked his lips as the man slid down in his seat and started caressing the length that was clearly hard. And those long delicate fingers sliding along it weren’t bad either. Gwaine’s eyes flickered up to the bloke’s face and were met with a gaze of the bluest set of eyes he’d ever seen.

Taking a deep breath, he shifted in his seat. Of course such a display had its effects on him. So he gave the bloke a shaky smile and pondered what to do next. In any club, he’d just sunk to his knees and gave the man a blowjob. But they weren’t in a club. They were on a train. A train through the night with hardly any passengers and the next stop about half an hour away. 

Without further thinking, Gwaine swallowed hard and sank to floor between the man’s knees. Carefully, he reached for the giant cock and stroked it through the fabric as the other’s hands fell away. He opened the button of the jeans and knew it wouldn’t be easy to get to the good stuff as the denim was so tight around the man’s body. But somehow he managed and a mixture of a sigh and a gasp escaped him. He’d never tried to suck a cock so large. But he would and he would do it well, if it was the last thing he was doing. 

As soon as he touched his lips against the hot skin, he felt those wonderful fingers in his hair, guiding him, playing with it and it sent shivers down his spine that he wasn’t just shoved against the prick. One last time, he licked his lips and then went to work. His jaw would ache for days, but he didn’t care, he needed to pleasure the hardness in front of him. So he opened wide and took in as much as he could, grabbing the rest of it firmly as he pulled back to tease the slit with the tip of his tongue. It was already leaking which turned Gwaine on even further. Slowly he found a rhythm and tried to relax his throat as much as he could, finding the right mixture of licking and sucking . 

The long fingers stroked through his hair and caressed that sensitive spot in the back of his neck and Gwaine would have smiled at the sounds coming from the man if his mouth hadn’t been so busy. The hot cock seemed to grow impossibly longer yet as it started to throb out its load. Gwaine tried to swallow all of it, but it was just too much and when he finally pulled back, panting hard, it slid down his chin. 

He didn’t sit back and wipe his mouth with the back of his hand and the bloke didn’t tuck himself back in a moment too soon.

“Tickets, please!” The conductor opened the door and looked at them. 

Gwaine fumbled his ticket out of the pocket of his jacket on the seat next to him while the bloke handed his to the conductor.

When the man was content and handed their tickets back and left, Gwaine started to chuckle. “You have the worst timing, Merlin.”

Merlin grinned widely and checked his watch. “The next station is about half an hour away. How about a second round?”

* * *

**6.**

The rain started pouring when he was halfway there. Merlin ducked inside a 24/7 and turned his head to the right. The Rising Sun could be seen from there, and his guts churned. He glanced up again, looked at the sky and caught the sight of a beam that crossed the sky, a thunder rumbling the second later. He shivered, but he wasn’t sure of why—too many things have happened, and staying still was making him sick.

He ran off in direction of the nearest building, then ducked again, trying—and failing—to avoid the drops that fell relentlessly from the sky. He then remembered Arthur’s face and felt his chest constrict. 

He ran.

.:.

It was still raining when he pushed the door open, big droplets of water running down from his hair to his body, trailing his thin silhouette and slipping through the neck of his shirt, the hem of his jeans. He ran a hand across the fringe of his hair and made his way to the counter, shivering again. 

Gwaine was there, as he’d said he’d be—Merlin found him before he reached the counter, sitting on a table by himself, nursing a beer. He felt his belly shrink and twist violently in the spare of a second, dizzy with anticipation and panic. He reached him and touched his shoulder softly, wetting his lips unconsciously when the man turned and beamed at him. He then saw the state Merlin was in and chided him. “Merlin, you shouldn’t go out in that state.”

But Merlin wasn’t interested in pleasantries. He wasn’t sure how to approach the subject either, and Gwaine must have seen that, because he pushed himself off the chair and took his hand.

“Are you sure about this?” he said, as he did later, and afterwards, and Merlin did the same thing he did all the times he asked—he nodded.

.:.

The room was dark and damp; it smelled of sweat and liquor, and something else Merlin couldn’t quite place. He let himself be manhandled by Gwaine, stripping off his clothes, exposing his neck for him to kiss, to lick, to _bite_ —arched his body to his, closing his eyes and letting those hands caress his body with adoration, with the things he yearn for and couldn’t have. 

He tried to push Arthur off his head, but with each touch, with each kiss, his chest tightened and he suppressed a whimper. He couldn’t help but imagine those hands as his, those lips as his, those arms and chest and thighs and cock—

Pain cracked his soul like the rays did the sky outside, but he ignored it.

Merlin forced himself to look at Gwaine, to watch the way he looked around his cock, to feel the man’s tongue lick at the tip and swallow him to the root. He forced Arthur out of his head, the way _he_ had looked right there; pretended he didn’t see Arthur’s innocence and eagerness shining through his eyes instead of the determination and lust in Gwaine’s. Let out a moan and then a whimper, though not because of the pleasure. 

Merlin pushed him off his cock and asked him to do _something_ , because Gwaine knew what he was doing, and Merlin needed direction.

His friend pushed him down the bed and tangled their legs together. He kissed the tip of his nose and Merlin _ached_ for Arthur again. He swallowed his tears and kissed Gwaine furiously, running his hands through his back and gripping at his arse. He kept going, desperate, sucking at his throat while he pressed his cock against his, rolling his hips frantically, moaning out charms and pleads and needs.

Gwaine grunted and gave in eventually, fucking him through the mattress while Merlin gave a strangled yelp and dug his nails at Gwaine’s back, pulling and pushing, in and out, until Arthur was just a shadow and a dream, and Gwaine was the only word Merlin knew.

He tightened his entrance on purpose, just to feel the tension, the pain and the intrusion. He ravished on it, focused on tightening and releasing, over and over, Gwaine cursing and shouting, hiding his face on the crook of Merlin’s neck and fucking as if it was the only thing he knew how to do. Merlin wailed, his body shaking uncontrollably, and came with shame washing over him.

The rain was still pouring outside, beams of light shining through the window, followed by thunders. Merlin stared, transfixed, and wondered if Arthur missed him at all.

* * *

**7.**

Merlin’s lazily palming his dick through his jeans. He has the flat to himself for whole afternoon and he plans to take full advantage of it. He looks at the photo calendar lying on the coffee table, his eyes roaming over the form of his stupidly gorgeous flatmate, over his face, the dirty smile, wide shoulders and lower over the muscles he’d like to kiss and taste. He groans and presses harder against his cock when his gaze slides towards the edge of the towel that is hanging obscenely low on Arthur’s hips.

Kicking off his jeans and briefs, he starts to fist his cock, setting a slow teasing rhythm. 

Since the release of the calendar, Arthur’s ‘Mr. July’ caused his significantly lower productivity. Merlin feels bad for being grateful there’s need for charity calendars, but he still beats off to Arthur’s photo at least twice a day. He’s planning to make it at least five times today.

 

+++

 

He’s fisting his cock as fast as he can, fingers of his other hand teasing around his opening. His hands are sticky with cum from the previous three rounds and it feels like he’ll never be able to reach the peak for the fourth time.

Thrusting into his fist, he pins his gaze to the photo again, gasping as he hunts his release.

That’s when the door opens and Arthur strides in. 

Merlin yelps and tries to snatch the calendar from the table, only making it fall face down to the floor. He covers his groin with a pillow and hides his face in his palms.

“Oookaaaay,” Arthur drawls.

He’s smirking like the prat he is. 

“I see you’re enjoying yourself. Good for you. I’m just going to grab my textbook and leave you to it.”

He heads towards his room, but then he pauses and heads towards the table instead.

“Well, well, Merlin… Didn’t you say you hadn’t bought it?”

Merlin moves quickly, trying to snag the calendar from the ground, but Arthur is faster. 

“So who’s the lucky boy? Gwaine? Lance? Or maybe Leon?”

Merlin feels panic rise in him.

“Don’t…” he squeaks.

Arthur turns the calendar and the smirk slips off his face. Merlin closes his eyes, swallowing around a lump in his throat. He’s not ready for Arthur’s rejection. He never will be.

The couch dips beside him, Arthur’s hand closing around one of his that are clenched on top of the pillows. 

“Merlin…” Arthur says softly.

Merlin shakes his head. He doesn’t want to hear it. Arthur pulls his hand away and shifts closer.

“How long?”

“Please, just let it go,” Merlin pleads, opening his eyes even when he knows they’re wet with unshed tears.

“You’re such an idiot,” Arthur says with a fond smile and leans closer, pressing his lips to Merlin’s in a chaste kiss. “I thought I couldn’t be more obvious with all the shirtlessness and sexual innuendos.”

“What?” 

Arthur rolls his eyes.

“I want to touch you, kiss you, fuck you, make you come so many times you won’t remember your own name.”

“I can’t be just your fuckbuddy.”

He’s completely open and vulnerable now. Arthur could ruin him with just a few words. 

“I want to woo you, date you, wake you up with morning kisses. I want to make sweet, sweet love to you,” Arthur murmurs and leans in for a proper kiss. 

“I think we’ll have to come back to those first steps later,” Arthur says, nosing along Merlin’s collarbone. “I really want to make that sweet love to you now.”

Merlin chuckles and lies down, rubbing the pillow over his renewed erection.

“Oh my god,” Arthur growls and strips to his briefs only. 

Climbing on top of Merlin, he starts grinding against the pillow, laying kisses over Merlin’s torso. 

“Just touch me already,” Merlin commands, pulling the pillow away and tossing it to the side.

Arthur traces the lines of dried come over Merlin’s belly.

“You came looking at the picture, haven’t you?”

Arthur’s presses their groins together. Rolling his hips, he creates the most delicious friction. 

“But you’re insatiable. Once wasn’t enough, was it?” Arthur whispers to his ear.

“Thrice.”

“What?”

“I came thrice. Thinking of you,” Merlin says, dragging his nails over Arthur’s sides.

“Shit, Merlin, fuck,” Arthur swears, his hips stuttering as he comes, damp spot forming on the front of his briefs.

Merlin thrusts up, rubbing himself over Arthur’s softening cock. 

“Make it four times,” Arthur groans into his ear and Merlin loses himself to his orgasm.

* * *

**8.**

It's laundry day.

They've been working for half an hour, dancing and singing along to the The Black Keys album blasting from their shared iPod dock, when Morgana sets the iron down and crosses the room to dial down the volume.

"So... bondage," she says casually, as she returns to slaving over the ironing board. She bites her lip and tries not to grin, watching for Gwen's reaction out of the corner of her eye.

"Bondage," Gwen echoes. Her heart races, but she calmly finishes folding the t-shirt in her hands.

"What do you think about it?" Morgana sounds curious, so Gwen glances up.

"Honestly? I _don't_ think about it. Being tied up, tying someone up... it's not really my thing." She shrugs, smiling apologetically.

Morgana goes quiet. "I think it might be one of my things," she says finally, with a nervous laugh. "Lately I've had thoughts about tying you up."

Gwen's eyes widen slightly. "Like, you get off on it?"

Morgana nods, sheepish, but Gwen can't have that, so she goes to her.

"Babe, listen," she growls, gripping her arms and shaking them gently. "You wanting me so bad that you get off to me even when I'm not there is just--" She breaks off, grinning. " _really_ fucking hot, okay? Don't ever want you to stop telling me your fantasies--I wanna help you explore them, if I can. And I'm willing to give anything a chance. Even bondage."

"Oh my god,"Morgana laughs, tearing up--a fact that she'll fervently deny later. "You'd do that for me?"

Gwen rolls her eyes and kisses her soundly.

* * *

"Holy shit," Morgana groans, sitting back on her heels while taking in her handiwork. She's naked, one hand cupped over the mound between her legs. "You look perfect."

 _I **feel** awkward_ , Gwen thinks, as she kneels on the bed before Morgana. Being completely naked like this isn't new, but holding her arms up over her head with her wrists bound together and suspended from one of the ceiling beams _is_. "I could say the same about you," she says wryly, and means it. Gwen's often thought any painter would have a field day committing Morgana's classical beauty to canvas.

"But more importantly, dear, you're at my mercy." Morgana grins wickedly and tugs one of Gwen's fat, soft nipples until it hardens under her attentions.

Gwen cries out helplessly when Morgana engulfs the other breast, gazing down the length of her body at Morgana's bobbing head as she suckles eagerly. The sight has her hips arching up, seeking friction but finding none, because the rope around her hands keeps her from being able to move forward much. She has the sudden, instinctive urge to try thrashing to escape even though it's not possible.

When Morgana pulls off, her plump lips glisten with saliva and there's a matching gleam in her eyes. "Poor baby," Morgana coos, stroking the back of her hand down Gwen's cheek so that she shudders. "You've been so, so good, letting me try this. You deserve a reward, don't you? Yeah."

"A kiss?" Gwen whines. "Your lips..."

"Shhh... I know, I know. You'll have them, I promise. But first I've got something else for you, kitten, something better. It's real sweet, just like you--"

Morgana reaches behind her for something and Gwen twists around, trying to see, but it's futile, because her head is trapped between her suspended arms. 

"Open that pretty little mouth nice and wide now," Morgana coaxes. A chocolate-covered strawberry dangles from her fingers.

Gwen's mouth _does_ open, but not of her own accord; it falls open in surprise.

Morgana beams and nibbles at the strawberry, a look of contemplation furrowing her features. "Delicious in and of itself, but lacking the secret ingredient." She parts her legs, eyes hooded as she exposes the dark hair and flushed pink lips of her pussy. Steadily holding Gwen's gaze, she rubs the strawberry in a slow circle over her protruding clit and drags it down into the shadowed softness between her thighs that Gwen can't see, moaning breathily.

"Fuck! This is cruel!" Gwen bucks against her bonds so that the rope strains with her weight.

Morgana barks a laugh, clearly delighted. "I think it's ready for consumption now, darling," she says playfully, pushing the glistening, bitten berry past Gwen's lips.

Morgana's musk fills her mouth and nose, both familiar and overpowering, but sweeter by far than the chocolate melting away on her tongue and the flood of sugary juice when she finally sinks her teeth in.

* * *

**9.**

Merlin looks ethereal, dipped into a play of shadows from the light of the bedside lamp. It’s loving the study of angles that he is, the sharp V of his collarbones softened in a shadowed smudge, the clear-cut architecture of his broad shoulders and wiry upper arms wrapped in a darkened embrace, and the long, slim lines of his splayed legs are a sinuous invitation Arthur can’t take but is _straining_ to. 

Straining to, literally, straining against the rope that ties him to the four-poster bed behind him, in front of which he’s kneeling, prostrating himself before Merlin who’s sitting not two metres away from him in a chair, nonchalant, relaxed, the personification of the languidness Arthur can’t comprehend because he’s speaking another language: bound and fastened to the bed’s rods, knees forced apart, arms forced behind his back. His muscles tremble with the position and his skin burns underneath the ropes. The cock ring around the base of his penis makes him sweat and shake and flush all over. His groin is an agony of unrelieved tightness, his back straight and tensioned like a bow’s string. There’s not an ounce of control left: he’s at Merlin’s total mercy, to be punished or worshipped, and he _loves_ it.

“Are you impatient, Arthur?” Merlin’s lips curve into something slow and sly. Arthur wants to lap at their geometrical impossibility. “Feeling a little tense? Helpless?”

Arthur nods jerkily, yields the illusion of autonomy willingly to Merlin. 

“Mmmh, and look at how helpless you are,” Merlin murmurs, lids fluttering shut as his eyes slide over the canvas of surrender that is Arthur’s tormented body. “All flushed and tense for me. Do you know your mouth looks like blood, this way? When you bite your lips, make them all swollen and sore? So lovely, so pretty.” 

And like the puppet being played by the puppeteer, Arthur’s tongue slides over his raw-bitten lower lip when Merlin stares at his mouth, and he tastes the sweet copper of blood with the sting of pain. He laps over it repeatedly, greedy for something because he’s hungry and so empty.

“Poor love.” Merlin hums under his breath, the sound carrying straight over to Arthur’s cock, which twitches, the head flushed a dark purple, engorged, throbbing with pent-up blood. “Do you want some relief?”

The offer is a tease, Merlin trying to break down Arthur’s control entirely, knowing how Arthur needs it, wants it. Wants something to distract him from the torture of his cock, wants something in his mouth. He watches, single-minded, as Merlin’s large hand wanders down the flat of his bare chest and belly, stopping at his crotch. He swallows, hard, as Merlin’s fingers, long and thin, graze along the slope of his cock lying thick and long under the denim. 

“Like this, perhaps?” Merlin says, low, rough, leaves his crotch by pressing the heel of his palm against it a last time before returning to it, popping the button and dragging the zipper down—and, oh, _fuck_. 

He’s bare underneath.

“You’d need a hand, wouldn’t you?” Merlin continues his infernal teasing and draws out his cock from the denim, cupping his balls, letting them brush carefully against the teeth of the zipper. He spits into his palm and smooths his hand up his thin, long cock in a slow stroke. The curls of his pubic hair are dark against the pale of his skin. Arthur wants to draw it between his lips and suck, taste Merlin’s pre-come off it. “Touching you? Jerking you off?”

Arthur groans in the back of his throat, presses his body forward against the rope, body restricted with the fabric cutting into his skin. Still he leans forward, forward, staring at the lovely cock he wants, wants, wants.

“Say it,” Merlin hisses, the slick sounds of his steady jerking interrupted by his panting, laboured, heavy. “Beg me for it.”

When Arthur does, it’s not what Merlin expects.

“Your cock,” Arthur mumbles, feverish. “Want your cock. Please. Please.”

And Merlin shows him mercy for the first time that night—stands up on wobbly legs, jeans riding low on his thighs, peeled back like gift wrap revealing Arthur’s price, the beauty of his cock, which he feeds into Arthur’s waiting mouth—pushes into Arthur’s empty, aching throat, fucks his face fast and hard and rough like Arthur needs him to, wants him to, uses him like the cockslut he is.

* * *

**10.**

**I Get Off**

The room was dark and mostly quiet. The only sounds present were heavy breathing and the light _slap slap_ of a wet hand sliding of hard flesh. On the bed lay Arthur Penn, star player for the Avalon Secondary footie team. Arthur’s body was propped up in a mound of pillows, his school shirt lying open on his shoulders, trousers tossed somewhere in the vicinity of his closet, pants crumpled at his still sock-clad feet. His eyes were closed, head tipped forward to his chest. His arm was jerking up and down in a steady rhythm, one sure to bring him off, with a little twist of his wrist put in for good measure.

There were no porno mags, no movies, no dirty pictures even. Arthur didn't need any of those things; his imagination did just fine for him thanks. In fact, it was that very imagination that was providing the most tantalizing images right now. The same images that had brought this little wank session of his. 

It had started in the locker room after practice. Being on the team for close to three years now, Arthur was used to seeing his teammates stripped down and wet from the showers. He was even man enough to admit he’d taken a peek or two, and not only for comparisons sake either. He knew that Lance had a quite fetching mole on his left arse cheek, that Percy had one of the biggest cocks he’d ever seen, and that Leon was in fact a natural blond. He also knew that Gwaine shaved his pubes, but then again everyone knew that since he made no secret of it.

No, all of that, Arthur was used to. Walking in and out of the showers was old hat by now, flicking towels at each other and dressing and undressing; it was no biggie. At least until the new guy showed up. Merlin Ambrose had just transferred in from Ealdor, this tiny blip of a town about four hours away. None one had ever really heard of it, much less known that it had a footie team.

But somehow, this country bumpkin of a boy walks in and nabs a spot on Avalon’s varsity team. Arthur had been grudgingly impressed, though that may have had more to do with the fact that Merlin had a mouth made for sucking. Even more points to the boy, was when he came into the showers with the rest of the team after practice and started shedding his clothes without hesitation. And then that pale, lithe body was stepping into the cascade of water and long fingers started to rub across – 

Arthur’s eyes snapped open, fantasy broken, at the insistent buzzing noise from his phone. Fuck, who the hell would be calling this time of night? Arthur fumbled for his phone, hand still curled around his leaking dick. He picked up the cell and glanced at the caller ID. Immediately, his stomach dropped even as his traitorous dick gave a little—okay, not so little—twitch. Merlin. With a thick swallow, he pressed the answer key.

“Yes?”

“Hey, Arthur. Listen I know it’s late, but I really wanted to check with you about the extra practice.”

That was right, Coach Garrath had wanted him to do a few extra practice sessions with Merlin, just to get him up to speed with Avalon’s team dynamic. Arthur stifled a sigh and rubbed his thumb over the head of his dick. “Right. What about it?”

Merlin’s voice was sheepish as he spoke. “Well, here’s the thing. I’m at Avalon on scholarship, and my mum really can’t afford for me to lose it, so –” 

Merlin’s words started to wash over him, the nervous lilt in his voice making something deep in his gut clench with need. Arthur’s hand started up again, slow and tight. He fought to keep his breath steady.

Arthur let out a deep breath, his body relaxing into his pillow pile. For a moment he’d forgotten he was actually one the phone with someone, but a slightly awed voice slammed him out of his post-orgasm high.

“Did you just –”

“Yes, I think we can work out a schedule that will work out for you. We can go over it Monday at school, alright? Alright, I’ll see you then.” Without waiting to hear a reply amongst the squawking over the line, Arthur ended the call and slumped back, thumping his head on the headboard. He was so screwed.

* * *

**11.**

Gwen had never owned a vibrator. It wasn’t that she was against them, as such, but she didn’t have the money, much less the time. It had never occurred to her that she might enjoy one, and to be honest she privately kind of thought that people who spent a lot of time masturbating had far too much time on their hands.

Gwen did not have time on her hands. She was busy all day during the week at her apprenticeship to a blacksmith – she couldn’t afford to go to university, but couldn’t get a decent job without qualifications. She was then busy at weekends and most evenings at her job at a café – it was minimum wage and thankless, but she had bills to pay and wouldn’t have been able to afford to eat without it. Whenever she wasn’t at work or training, she would be catching minimal sleep or trying to make cheap food taste interesting. She didn’t have time for sex with other people, let alone sex with herself.

Gwen’s friends all knew that she wasn’t exactly well off, but it was never an issue. In fact, the only time they ever noticed it was when she took out her phone – a little old brick of a Nokia 3310. They occasionally made fun but hey, it did all she needed it to and was, let’s face it, pretty damn indestructible.

The first time had been an accident. She’d been holding other things and had tucked her phone in between her legs so that she wouldn’t drop it anywhere. Morgana had rung her, and she’d nearly dropped everything else she was holding when the thrill jolted up her legs and towards her groin. She couldn’t help it, it felt – it felt good.

She soon forgot about it as she spoke to Morgana, trying to soothe her latest man crisis. But she found herself doing it more often – leaving her phone between her legs or on her lap, increasingly close to her crotch and hoping that someone would ring. They didn’t ring often, but oh god, the shiver down her spine when they did was more than worth it.

The first Saturday evening she’d had off work in a long time, she found herself sitting in bed in just her underwear, unable to concentrate on her book and with her phone jammed firmly against the barrier of her pants. A single text was enough to set her off.

Before she knew what she was doing, she’d run to fetch the house phone from the living room and was settling back in bed, shimmying out of her knickers.

With trembling fingers she dialled her own mobile number, waiting until the sturdy little thing started vibrating in short, two second long bursts. She placed the mobile on her thigh to start, dragging it slowly up towards her crotch. By the time it touched her pussy – the vibrations almost feeling violent against the sensitive flesh – she was shuddering with the feel of it, her eyes half closed. She moved it around, experimenting with what felt best, until she found a spot that made her moan out loud. She kept the phone there, bucking each time it vibrated on the little nub of nerves.

The mobile stopped vibrating as the call went to voicemail. Gwen cursed loudly. She re-dialled the number, then abandoned the house phone on the bed as her mobile started vibrating against her cunt again. She dropped her now-free hand to feel herself – she was a lot wetter than she’d expected, but damn it felt good.

She traced her pussy with two fingers, shivering as her nails scratched lightly along the lips. She pressed one finger tentatively inside, then two. The angle of her hand pressed her mobile harder against her clit and the vibrations pushed her over the edge – convulsing, vision obscured by stars, legs tingling. She breathed heavily as she struggled to come back to herself.

Calmly, she hung up the phone, pulled her pants up and grabbed her book.

Maybe a vibrator wasn’t that bad of an idea.

* * *

**12.**

They’d been running for a long time now.

How long, he wasn’t entirely sure. It could have been mere months, but sometimes it felt like years. It was hard to keep track.

They were far from civilisation now, having stolen an inflatable dinghy of all things. But it wouldn’t make much difference, he knew. No matter where they went, no matter how _far_ they went, someone was always chasing them.

He didn’t know how long the peace would last before someone found them again. He wasn’t sure how much longer they’d be able to keep running before they ran out of energy.

Before they ran out of luck.

The gravel crunched under Arthur’s feet, rocks biting into his flesh, though he paid them no mind. It was a shitty beach, to go along with an equally shitty day—gloomy, the sun covered by heavy clouds; smelled like rain, he thought.

He waded into the water, making his way over to the boat they had tied up, ignoring the way the cold washed over his legs. They’d given up on clothes; too much of a hassle to take care of, and it wasn’t like anyone was around to judge them.

Merlin was sleeping peacefully in the boat, the gentle rock of it having lulled him into the land of dreams, though his eyes blinked open slowly as Arthur hoisted himself up into the craft.

“Mm, hey,” Merlin greeted him with a yawn, stretching as Arthur settled across from him, tangling their legs together. Merlin’s nose wrinkled. “Your legs are wet.”

Arthur snorted. “Hello to you too. We can’t all _fly_ across the water, I’m sorry to say.”

“I do not fly,” Merlin argued. “That would be ridiculous.”

His eyes glowed gold as he spoke, and Arthur smiled as he found that his legs were dry again.

Merlin’s magic was the entire reason behind the situation they were in, but Arthur didn’t blame him; it had been his father who had forced Arthur’s hand.

It had been his father who had told the government about Merlin’s existence.

That Arthur would choose Merlin over his father hadn’t even been a question, though before meeting Merlin Arthur hadn’t thought he would ever come to that point in life. He hadn’t even been sure he’d ever be able to.

He wouldn’t change it now for the world.

As the gold faded from Merlin’s eyes, Arthur leaned forward, placing his hand gently on Merlin’s upper thigh suggestively.

Merlin laughed softly. “Pervert.”

Arthur shrugged. “What can I say? I find you doing magic incredibly sexy.”

Merlin rolled his eyes, but he still allowed his legs to fall open, and Arthur took that as the invitation it was, crawling forward until he was sitting in between Merlin’s legs.

“I’m still loose from last night,” Merlin confided quietly, and Arthur groaned, hand going to his cock so he wouldn’t go off immediately.

“Come here, then,” he said, pulling Merlin toward him, and Merlin clambered into Arthur’s lap clumsily, all elbows and knees and somehow still incredibly beautiful.

Arthur guided himself towards Merlin’s entrance, and Merlin threw his head back with a load moan as he was penetrated, hands clutching at Arthur’s shoulders as he sunk down slowly onto his lover’s cock.

Merlin paused once he was fully seated, allowing himself to adjust, and it was all Arthur could do not to thrust up into the willing body above him.

Thankfully though, Merlin didn’t need long; in no time at all he was lifting himself up and sinking back down, but Arthur still waited for Merlin’s nod before he rocked his own hips upwards, his eyes rolling back into his head as Merlin met him thrust for thrust.

They weren’t particularly fast or slow with their coupling, simply going with the flow of it, but when Arthur dragged his fingers down Merlin’s back, digging into the skin gently, Merlin let out a throaty gasp, fucking down on Arthur’s cock just that little bit harder.

Arthur laughed, the sound shaky. “You like that, do you?” he stuttered. Merlin answered him with a moan.

They came together, shuddering from their respective orgasms as Merlin slumped against Arthur, both of them unwilling to part from where they were currently connected.

“I love you,” Merlin said quietly into his ear.

“I’ll always be with you,” Arthur told him.

Maybe they would be on the run again eventually, but for now he was going to embrace their freedom while it lasted.

* * *

**13.**

The thing is: Merlin is a spoiled brat. He lives in the lap of luxury and has never been told what to do. Arthur, too, is a child of money but of a different sort. Merlin’s mother coddles him, allows him free reign and no rules, while Arthur grew up with nothing but rules. It angers him to see Merlin act so childish, to throw temper tantrums when he doesn’t get his way.

Like now; papers are everywhere, some still drifting in the air and others scattered across the ground. Merlin is in their midst, arms crossed petulantly as he glowers at Arthur and all because he was getting frustrated over a problem. He’s beautiful in his anger but Arthur can’t let him get away with this.

Very calmly, he says, “take off your clothes, Merlin.”

The fall of Merlin’s shoulders is so slight that Arthur would never have seen it if he hadn’t been looking for it. He sees, though, because he needs to see; he needs to know that Merlin still needs this like Arthur thinks he does. They stare at each other for a few seconds as Merlin decides whether he wants to obey or push just a little more.

Arthur sees the moment that the decision is made and it’s beautiful, really, the way Merlin lowers his eyes as he begins to undress. His boy is breathtaking when he’s obedient.

When he’s bare, he just stands there, hands at his sides, as Arthur looks his fill. Merlin is still so young, growing into his long limbs and his ridiculous ears, but to Arthur he’s beautiful. 

Stepping close, he puts a hand around the back of Merlin’s neck and faces him toward the couch, pushing until Merlin obediently leans over it. His ass is on display for Arthur, pale and unblemished and Arthur can’t wait to change that.

The first smack seems supernaturally loud in the silence. Merlin makes a noise in the back of his throat, body jerking forward. Arthur doesn’t wait for him to adjust before he lands the second blow. He spanks Merlin, again and again, drawing out noise after delicious noise.

By the time he’s done, Arthur’s aching in his slacks and Merlin is breathing hard, his body trembling, his own cock hard between his legs. He loves what Arthur does to him.

The thought makes Arthur groan and he unbuckles his belt, shoving his pants down just enough to free his cock. “On your knees, Merlin,” he orders, curling a fist around himself.

Merlin all but collapses to the ground and then turns to face Arthur; he whines at the sight of Arthur’s cock, leaning forward to take it into his mouth but Arthur fists a hand in his arm, keeping him back.

“No,” he says, jacking himself. “You were bad, Merlin.”

Merlin looks broken as he watches Arthur pleasure himself, like this punishment is worse than the spanking he just received. He’s gorgeous like this, horny and desperate but still letting Arthur control him.

When he’s close, Arthur growls, “beg for it.”

Merlin doesn’t disappoint.

“Please.” He pulls against Arthur’s grip on his hair, mouth falling open; so desperate for it, for Arthur’s cock in his mouth, it’s fucking beautiful. “Please, Mr. Pendragon.”

Arthur groans, hips jerking as he comes. Below him, Merlin whines, and when he looks down, Arthur’s cock gives an aborted twitch in his loosened fist. His boy is covered in come from mouth to the nape of his neck and it’s obscene but Merlin, his beautiful Merlin, looks completely blissed out from it; his eyes closed and the corners of his mouth twitched up in a smile. 

He looks completely boneless, probably held up by nothing more than Arthur’s fist in his hair, despite the erection that still stands thick and proud between his legs. 

When Arthur’s regained his breath, he asks, “Are you ready to be a good boy now, Merlin?”

Merlin’s eyes flutter open and he looks up at Arthur with a worshipful expression that makes Arthur’s heart skip a beat.

“Yes, Mr. Pendragon,” he answers. “Thank you, Mr. Pendragon.”

* * *

**14.**

The heat is heavy in the air and it clings to their skin, making sweat bead in the dip of Arthur's spine, collect in the pool of Merlin's clavicle. 

"It's fucking hot here," Arthur complains, even as he grinds his hips down lazily into Merlin's, the heat making them listless, reluctant to try anything more exerting. The room reeks of sex, sweat-tangy and suffocating.

"Global warming," Merlin reminds him with a smirk, meeting Arthur's thrusts with a twist of his hips. "Also, you're the one who wanted to 'see the world' in the middle of August. Don't blame me."

Arthur doesn't respond to the jibe, just leans down into Merlin's space and nips at Merlin's lips, tracing Merlin's smirk with the wet heat of his tongue. Merlin opens his mouth to Arthur, reaches out, twists his fingers in the silky, sweat-damp hair at the nape of Arthur's neck, keeping him in place. They kiss lazily, languidly, both half hard but content to just rock slowly together, the dull thrum of pleasure humming through them both, as sluggish and ever-present as the heat. 

"You could have warned me," Arthur grumbles when they break apart for air, breath sticky on each other's skin. 

Merlin sighs, or maybe laughs, but it's swallowed almost immediately by the already-saturated air. "Find out on your own," he says, a half-thought, something he's said before and will definitely have to say again. He kisses Arthur, though, just because he can. 

"Let me up," he says after another moment, nudging at Arthur's shoulder, and Arthur deftly flips them, keeping his hands on Merlin's waist, never letting him go. Merlin settles on top of him, Arthur's cock nestled in the cleft of his ass, the air actually cool on his back after so long pressed into the sheets. He drinks in the sight of Arthur in front of him, the feel of Arthur beneath him, revels in the fact that he is _here_ , and can't believe that he has survived this long without him. 

_"Arthur,"_ he says, almost unbidden, and it's more desperate than he meant, conveying something he's never even tried to put into words. He doesn't miss the way Arthur's eyes darken at his tone, the sudden snap of Arthur's hips, the way his own body responds in turn. 

He shifts purposefully on top of Arthur, dragging his ass slowly up and down the length of Arthur's cock, and Arthur has to bite his lip to stop from moaning, breath catching in Merlin's throat at the sight. 

"Fuck," Merlin groans, as Arthur grasps at the sheets, at Merlin's thighs, at empty air. "No, touch me," he tells Arthur, and Arthur is quick to obey. He reaches for him, presses his fingers into Merlin's skin, nails leaving white half moons in their wake, marking, claiming, _possessing_ Merlin in a way no one ever has, ever will again, and Merlin's back arches like a cat, body straining ever closer to the already suffocating warmth of Arthur's skin, Arthur's touch. 

His hands skate down Merlin's ribs, his fingers catching on each one, and Merlin is skinny—still too skinny—and Arthur can feel the bones under Merlin's skin, the stubborn strength of them, the fossils of Merlin's shape after decades (centuries, _millennia_ ) of existing, of going on, _alone_ —

"Merlin," he rasps into the space between them, so far from empty, heavy with the heat and the staccato rhythm of their breath, with the weight of their distance—not physical, _never_ physical, not anymore, Arthur thinks—and Merlin gasps, "Yes, yes, _Arthur—"_ and their time apart unravels in front of him, unspools in the space between them; and he digs his fingers into Merlin's hips, pulls Merlin down, drags him closer.

Merlin goes with it, pliant in Arthur's hands, and he crashes into Arthur's chest as Arthur surges up to meet him, cock trapped between their bodies, heat and need smothering them both. Arthur's hands are impossibly big pressed into the delicate curve of Merlin's spine, and Merlin comes untouched, just like that, suppressing his shout in the sweaty dip of Arthur's shoulder, teeth dragging on his skin, burning hotter than fire.

* * *

**15.**

“You know,” Elena muses, “I think most exes have less sex than we do.”

Arthur hums into her breast, licking neatly around the curve. “Do they?” he asks when he lifts his head. “What do they do instead?”

She flaps a hand and almost smacks him in the face. “Who cares? This is more fun.” She shifts her hips against his pointedly. “Or it would be if you would hurry up. Out of curiosity, do you ever plan to fuck me?”

“I’m taking my time.” He gives her a wounded look. “This is why we broke up, you know. The backseat fucking.”

This time, she smacks him on purpose. “It’s not backseat fucking, it is _feedback_.” Arthur smirks at her and slips a finger past the cloth of her panties and inside, where she’s been wet for ages. “And we broke up because our dads don’t run our—fuck.”

“Soon,” he promises, crooking his finger until Elena lets out a whine and digs her heel into his back.

“Come _on_.”

Arthur laughs and nods, which means he’s finally ready to stop being a dreadful tease and _fuck her already_ like she’s been wanting all day—and his mobile starts vibrating on the nightstand. He looks over, biting his lip.

“Oh, no way, whoever it is can wait, now you are going to fuck me.” It keeps vibrating, and he gives her a sheepish look before grabbing it. Elena lets out a frustrated scream. “I am going to kill you, and it will be painful—”

“Look, it’s Mithian,” he says, smile going wicked, and she freezes. “What do you say, shall I pick up, tell her you say hello?”

Elena grabs for the phone, not willing to take the chance that he’s in a torturing mood. “I will _murder you_ ,” she promises, and Arthur relents—or she thinks he does, until he puts the phone, still vibrating, over her panties, and she lets out a breathless noise. “Fuck.”

“It’s almost like she’s the one getting you off, like this. Should I answer, put her on speaker and fuck you while you have to be very quiet so she doesn’t hear?” The thought is enough to have her arching half off the bed, suddenly so close to coming that she almost goes over the edge out of surprise before the phone stops vibrating, call ended. Arthur watches her with a smile and then puts his phone away. “You liked that?”

“I’m never speaking to you again,” she says faintly. “How would you feel if that had been Merlin?”

“Hey.” He moves until he can meet her eyes properly, hands on either side of her head. “I’m a bastard, I’m sorry. For what it’s worth, she was probably calling to ask about you.”

She pulls him down to kiss him. It’s familiar, nice as always, and he lets out a relieved sigh into her mouth before she pulls away. “You’re awfully willing to lose your outlet for regular sex. Speaking of which …”

Arthur laughs and lets her change the subject. “Fine. You’re so impatient.” He slides her panties off without any fuss, though, and Elena helps him by kicking them off when they get to her feet. He always keeps a condom under his pillow, and she grabs it and then urges him to hurry the fuck up.

Seconds later, he’s sliding inside while she clutches at his sides to encourage him until he’s seated all the way. She wriggles a little to watch the way he gasps and pulls him down to kiss her again, as sweet and nearly-chaste as they were at eighteen and trying to be in love. When he fucks her, though, it’s deep and hard and everything she needs. She wraps herself around him as well as she can and takes it, everything what she’s been wanting.

Arthur is a gentleman even though he’s a pillock. He watches her eyes the whole time he’s inside her and hits her sweet spot every thrust until he brings her off, clenching around him. He fucks her until she’s squirming again before he comes, gasping into her mouth and thrusting deep. They’re both still breathing hard when he pulls out to take care of the condom, leaving her to finger herself while he settles in to watch.

“You’re the best friend I could ask for,” she says. He smiles, kisses her on the forehead, and reaches out to help her through her second orgasm.

* * *

**16.**

The streets of Camelot were empty by order of King Arthur during the crippling heatwave. The knights took turns patrolling the streets, but nobody stirred from the stifling heat of their homes into the dangerous heat of the streets.

Except the Queen and her wizard, who carried water to the old and the young and anybody who wasn’t able-bodied enough to fetch it, sweat stinging their eyes and soaking their clothes. They walked alone, leaving her regular entourage in the protection of the castle's shadows. Merlin kept cold water gushing into the buckets as they moved from house to house where they were greeted with low bows and dry rasps of gratitude. So many of them remembered hot snaps and droughts when nobody came to their doors with a single drop. 

The harsh sunlight followed them throughout the lower town until long after their sparse supper of herbs and bread. It was late when Gwen stopped, setting down her empty bucket. “Do you hear that? Listen.” 

He did. The sound of their salvation. A distant growl building into a low rumble, louder and closer by the second. Purple lightning danced around the red sun, streaking the sky like a turbulent infection. Thunder boomed with each flash, vibrating through the ground and into Merlin’s tingling fingers, where his magic crackled and sparked, brought to life by the change in the air. 

They raced each other to the queen’s chambers, revitalized by the scent of rain, the promise of relief. They arrived in time to witness the sky explode across the kingdom as the wind snapped through the open windows, carrying a sharp, charred odor with it. Fires erupted, dancing for a handful of glorious seconds before the curtains of rain forced them back to the earth. 

“What’s going on Merlin?” 

Merlin held his hands out, studying the peculiar light dancing from fingertip to fingertip. 

“Does it hurt?” 

Merlin held his hands out to her. Gwen hesitated the span of a breath before her fingers glided over his palms, gathering the dancing sparks onto her skin. She held her hand up, casting her face in red light in the instant before the light disappeared. Smiling, she reached for Merlin again, this time touching his cheek. Sparks tumbled down to the floor, glowed brightly, and snuffed out. The torrent continued outside, faster and louder, drowning the sounds of his heart beating, the smell of fire, scrubbing the world clean. 

“Beautiful,” she murmured, her nails skimming over his lips. He caught her wrist, holding her in place as he kissed the pad of each finger. Their eyes met over the caress, small bolts of lightning crackling between them. Gwen’s other hand went to Merlin’s shoulder, slid down his arm to twine their fingers together. It was so easy to move their bodies together, shuffle closer until their mouths touched without touching, flecks of magic jumping from skin to skin, creating a closed circuit that drew them tighter and tighter. 

That was how the king found them, outlined against the sun’s dying rays and wild lightning, bright beacons against the falling blue clouds. Merlin twitched at the touch of Arthur’s palm, his magic responding with a surge that shook all three of them. Gwen tilted her head up, waiting for the pressure of her king’s mouth, but he didn’t respond to the invitation. 

“This is what we’ve been waiting for,” Arthur murmured.

And then Merlin felt the strawberry sweetness of her mouth on his. They both gasped into the kiss as the floor shook and thunder erupted directly over them, from them, between them and above them. Merlin buried his hand in her hair and dipped his tongue into her mouth, licking at her lips and tongue like they were coated in honey. Arthur’s heavy hand on his back kept him grounded as magic rolled off him in waves, entwining his Sun and his Moon closer to him. Arthur’s stubble brushed against his jaw, and he turned to savor the heat of his lips. 

The thunder echoed around them, but it was only the sound of Merlin’s heart. The earth absorbed the rain, but it was only his flesh drinking in their essence. Lightning painted the sky--his magic reaching for its true home.

* * *

**17.**

He shouldn’t be participating in this stupid race anyway.

The soldiers had come to Ealdor and lined up all the sixteen and seventeen year olds, and when one of their leaders got to Merlin in the line, he had jerked a thumb backwards and said, “You can go home.”

But another man, tall and wearing the red cape of a knight, said, “Wait.”

He’d walked up to Merlin and lifted his chin with gloved fingers, saying, “He’s beautiful.”

The other man laughed and said, “You can’t be serious, Leon. He’s scrawny and bony, and look at those ears!”

But the knight repeated, “He’s beautiful. I know what the prince likes.”

*****

So Merlin found himself in a line with thirty other young people, most of them beautiful girls, the others comely youths.

He was barefoot and wearing nothing but a thin pair of linen trousers, and before the race he’d been bathed and anointed with sweet-smelling oils. His handlers discouraged questions, but they told him enough to know that all the young virgins would be chased through the forest by The Stag King, who would choose one of them to lie with. The chosen one would become his consort.

It was an initiation ritual for Prince Arthur’s coming-of-age, and the prince would be in an altered state, becoming half-man, half-animal. They told him the prince’s trance state came from meditation and fasting.

He knew better. Those things would be a good start, but Merlin knew enough herb lore to suspect the prince would be high on medicinal mushrooms. 

They’d done one other thing to prepare him for the race. They’d bent him over a table and slicked up his rectum with grease, inserting a small plug to keep the slickness inside.

It was uncomfortable, and Merlin wondered how he was supposed to outrun the stag barefoot and with a two inch piece of wood up his arse. But he consoled himself with the thought that, drugged or not, the prince would not be pursuing him. The other participants were all far more attractive than he was.

Merlin ran like the wind when the flag dropped. He didn’t particularly want to get fucked by some prince he didn’t know, and he had his own reasons for wanting to leave Camelot as soon as he could. It would be dangerous for him to stay in a place where magic users were punished by death. 

He’d been born with magic, and he liked his head where it was, thank you very much.

His plan was to run far enough into the forest to conceal himself in the roots of a fallen tree, or to find a small cave. Just because some high and mighty prince wanted to chase a prey, didn’t mean he had to go along with it.

But as he ran, he realized that he was feeling somewhat woozy and confused himself. Those bastards drugged me, too, he thought.

And then he heard it, the baying of the stags. The sound was primal and thrilling, and in spite of his plan to opt out of the chase, he found himself running, half-terrified and half-aroused.

He ran and ran, branches slapping his face, and the sound of pursuit getting closer by the minute. He made the mistake of looking back, and that made him trip over a root.

He was cursing his clumsiness when the Stag King landed on him, pinning Merlin to the ground with his weight. They were face to face for a moment, and Merlin saw a beautiful and terrifying figure, with antlers attached to his head and his face painted in stripes of gold and red. The Stag King’s eyes were bright and intoxicated, and Merlin knew that he had been chosen.

Then he was flipped over, and the stag was rutting against him. Merlin gasped at the hardness rubbing against the crack of his ass, and then his trousers were torn off him, the plug was being pulled out, and he was getting fucked.

The man above him grunted and pawed at him like an animal, and his big prick felt like it was going to split Merlin in two.

But then the Stag King pulled him back onto his lap, and stroked his cock with a callused hand in rhythm with the fierce strokes in and out. 

Merlin came just before his partner did, and they fell to the forest floor, still joined.

The last thing he heard before he blacked out was the prince growling, “Mine.”

* * *

**18.**

His fingers ran down the length of Merlin’s ribs. His metal ring bumping over each bone. 

“You’re too thin.”

“I’m not,” Merlin panted out as he rocked their hips together. 

“I should be feeding you rather than fucking you.”

Merlin ground down deliberately, hard, rough, into the body beneath him and then whispered in his partner’s ear. “You can make me a bacon sandwich after you fuck me.”

He laughed and reached down to grip Merlin’s backside tightly, stopping Merlin’s movements. Merlin tensed as the fingers slid firm between his cheeks. The tip of his forefinger slid roughly against Merlin’s entrance. Merlin arched into the touch. He pulled his fingers away and Merlin let out a displeased, breathy moan. He gripped Merlin’s backside and flipped them. 

“Don’t you want me on my knees?” Merlin asked shifting under him, making them both groan. 

“I want you every fucking way,” he rasped into Merlin’s ear before he manhandled Merlin over and onto his knees. “I want you on your knees, your arse open, on display so I don’t even have to spread you cheeks to lick your hole.” 

He grabbed Merlin’s calves and pushed his knees forward until they were tucked under Merlin and his arse was spread wide. “I want you on your knees with your mouth straining around my cock.”

He rocked his cock along the soft skin behind Merlin’s balls, up over his hole and back down. “I want to feel your throat fluttering around the head of my cock as my precum is coating your tonsils.”

He pulled back and dropped down until he could see Merlin’s hole. Tight and pink and puckered – just waiting for him. He bent his neck and lapped at Merlin’s entrance making the thin man in front of him gasp. The skin against his tongue clenched hard and then relaxed. Overlaying the taste of Merlin was the tart taste of his own cock. He pulled back from Merlin. “I want to come on your face and your cheekbones. I want to paint your collarbones with my come. I want to trail it over your nipples and suck it out of your belly button. I want to suck your cock when it is coated in my spunk and I want to watch it leak out of your hole after I’ve fucked it into you.”

“Fuck,” Merlin grunted out and tried to rock his cock against something. “Please…”

He flicked open the lube and coated his finger, making sure the ring was coated as well. He pressed it in slowly; watching as it rocked in and out of Merlin’s tight little hole until all that was left outside was his ring. It was startlingly silver against Merlin’s hole and without pause he pushed until it was just inside, straining the circle of muscles. Merlin let out a moan and pushed back into him. “I want to be so deep inside of you that you can still feel where I was the next day. I want to touch every part of you I can reach and know the places that will make you scream.”

He pulled his finger out, added more lube and pushed back in with two. It was too soon but Merlin just arched back into him at the slide. He fingered Merlin open fast and rough and then impossibly slow. “I love opening you up, taking this tight muscle that doesn’t want to be stretched and making it spread around my fingers. It gets so greedy; I can feel it begging me for a third finger or maybe my cock. I do so love to see it stretched red and used around my cock.”

“Cock,” was all Merlin said. 

He didn’t though, used a third finger and kept stretching. When Merlin was close, he pulled his fingers out and pressed the head of his cock to Merlin’s entrance. 

“I love the first push, when your hole tries to resist.” He pushed in, past the momentary resistance and began to fuck Merlin slowly. He reached around and tugged at Merlin’s cock. 

The man beneath him hissed. “No, I’m…” and then Merlin came with a shudder and a loud groan.

He continued fucking into Merlin until he came himself not long after. He pulled out and away, slumping down onto the mattress. 

Merlin curled into him minutes later, trailing his fingers through chest hair. 

“I obviously didn’t fuck you hard enough.”

“Oh you did,” Merlin said. “But now I want bacon.”

* * *

**19.**

They're dripping wet when they tumble into the tent, Arthur falling forward onto his knees the moment he's inside. Merlin has to steady himself against Arthur's back to keep from stumbling over him. 

Merlin's laugh is loud, filling the muted sounds of the outdoors with its strange, high pitched squeaks. The first time Arthur heard Merlin laugh (which was basically the second he got in the door of their school as a new transfer student) he'd thought he was in a school full of nerds. Because, really. Really. 

And Merlin is kind of a nerd, one who wears nail polish because he can and lives for the drama club. But he's Arthur's best friend anyway because he'd taken him to the woods on his first day and passed him a soggy joint he'd hidden in his shoe. 

"Don't get water all over the sleeping bags, wanker," Merlin says. "Not gonna sleep in soggy wet crap."

"And how are you gonna manage that? We're both soggy and wet."

Merlin rolls his eyes at him, peeling the wet t-shirt off himself as the thunder rolls overhead again. They both pause for a second, looking up at the roof of the tent. 

It had been a gorgeous summer day when they took off to camp by the lake, begging their parents to go, promising not to do anything they shouldn't. Promising had been enough for Hunith, but not for his dad who had frisked them for forbidden substances before they left. 

Water slides from Merlin's hair (too long now, curling around his ears) and down his skin, pooling slightly in the hollow of his collarbone before he bends down to get out of his damp socks. 

The rain starts pounding on the tent and Merlin looks at him, smiling crookedly. "Guess we better stay in."

"Yeah. Me, you and your stinky socks." 

Merlin throws a sock at him and he flails, pushing it aside. 

They strip to their boxer shorts, slipping into their dry sleeping bags and listen to the rain drum on the tent until the walls of it droop a little. 

It's damp inside. The air is heavy and close. Arthur turns his head, looking at Merlin who's buried into his sleeping bag, hair still wet. Arthur studies his jaw and the line of his neck, picturing the naked chest he's seen a million times before, but now the thought makes him feel a little weird. 

Thunder breaks through the stillness again and Arthur fidgets, the closeness of the air and the tent making the words slide to the tip of his tongue. 

"Do you ever think about guys?" he says, heart picking up a mad beat. 

Merlin takes in a breath in the sudden stillness. 

"Yeah." It's quiet after that before he says, "I'm really, really gay."

It's hard to breathe. 

"Do you?"

"I think about you," Arthur says. 

Merlin looks at him, face suddenly close and his breath warm on Arthur's face. 

Merlin's lips are really warm and wet, pulling him in until they're so close that Arthur feels warm all over. He feels the kiss in his knees when Merlin licks his bottom lip a little uncertainly. 

The steady drum of the rain mixes with his heartbeat as they kiss a little clumsily, both too eager to figure it out entirely. But it's good. So seriously good and hot and soft. Arthur's fingers shake when he runs them down Merlin's neck. He wants to lick him, across his jaw, down his neck, along his ear. 

But he doesn't know if that's something you do. Maybe it's weird. Maybe Merlin would call him a freak and stop.

"I've never..." he says when Merlin's hand is hot on his skin above his boxers, branding him until he can't breathe. 

"Me neither."

He squeezes his eyes shut, breath whooshing out if him when Merlin's fingers wrap around his dick. The pressure is gentle, but it's Merlin's and that... _that_. He bites his lip, the muscles in his stomach jumping when Merlin slides his fist along the shaft. It's so new and it feels like it'll all be gone if he moves too abruptly. Like he'll never remember the touch of Merlin's hand on him if he breaks the moment. 

He opens his eyes, seeing the slightly cracked, blue nail polish on the fingers circling his cock and he arches up, crying out. Merlin watches him with parted lips, come sliding over his fingers.

* * *

**20.**

Gwen's nearly asleep when her shoulder bumps Merlin's. It's hardly more than a touch, a brush of skin against skin, but it makes Merlin sigh and shift on Gwen's narrow bed. 

"You can't sleep?" Gwen asks. Her voice sounds loud in the warm, still, nighttime dark. 

"Think I dozed off." Merlin yawns and stretches and for a few seconds, he's a tangle of awkward limbs and apologies until he settles on his side. "You're awake, too."

"Mm. Just barely, though. Maybe we ought to have stayed in the castle?"

Merlin shakes his head and Gwen knows what he's going to say; he's going to tell her that even if the castle's cooler, it's not as quiet, and that when the rain finally comes, it'll be nicer in here. 

She leans up to press her mouth to his and stop the words. He mumbles something about the storm against her lips as he smoothes his hand over her stomach, determined to get in one last word of persuasion.

Merlin doesn't need to, though; Gwen knows he likes the privacy of her little home, and she likes the way he makes it feel less empty and small. She even likes the warm press of his body and breath against hers, the way it makes it almost unbearable to sleep in the middle of summer with his skin so near to hers. 

A low rumble of thunder sounds in the distance just as Merlin's fingers curl between her thighs and Gwen's breath catches in anticipation. Merlin stills to listen to the storm approach, his palm cupped over her mound, and angles his hand to meet the rise of Gwen's hips. He strokes the soft, dark hair there and tickles her, laughing when she does and growing quiet once more when thunder rolls through the hot air. 

"We'll have rain soon," he murmurs, "then you'll be able to sleep better."

"Yes," Gwen says, and " _oh_ " at the press of two fingers between her lips. She's not quite wet, not yet, but she's ready to feel Merlin that close to her. He crooks one finger just right so that when she rocks her hips against his hand he can start to stroke her inside until she's wet. 

Merlin takes his time and Gwen likes that, too, how he lets her find a rhythm, how he strokes and teases her inner lips until his fingers are slick enough to rub over her clit and tease her there, too. His slim, strong fingers press inside her, then slip back out, and he flicks at her clit when she lets her legs fall open for him.

 

"Oh, Gwen," Merlin says, and "Gwen," with a stuttery breath when she yearns up off the mattress, seeking out his touch. 

When the thunder rumbles low and deep, Gwen can feel it all along her body, as if Merlin has lit up all her senses with his touch. She turns to kiss him again, feels his hand tremble against her, and catches the sharp scent of rain and dust when they break the kiss. 

"Now, before it really starts to rain." Gwen's not sure why she wants to beat the rain, but she does--she wants Merlin inside her before the heat breaks, before the cool breeze comes, and before they realize how tired they are.

A little dizzy with heat and need, Gwen closes her eyes and listens to the harshness of her breath, the soft way Merlin pants as he shifts positions and the louder moan he gives as he pushes inside her. She only opens them when his nose and lips touch hers with a soft kiss as he moves inside her. He's slow at first, teasing again, but his control dissipates as Gwen moves her hands down his sides and around his back to grip him tight and close. 

This is what summer ought to be, Gwen thinks then, sweat-slick skin and the slide of hot bodies against each other during the tense moments right before the first thunderstorm of the summer. The slow anticipation, the rain that falls soft and slow at first, and then the rush of the storm.

* * *

**21.**

“What are we supposed to do now?”

“Ironic, isn't it?” Prince Arthur said as he stared out the window at the blinding rain. “We come here to be out in nature, and that's exactly what's keeping us from it.” He heaved a sigh, then turned to flop down on the sofa.

Gwaine looked at Percival. “He didn't answer my question.”

A loud clap of thunder reverberated through the room as if in response.

“Say, Arthur, there's really only one thing people do when they're stuck in like this,” Gwaine said suggestively.

Arthur rolled his eyes. “Our internet is down from the storm, Gwaine. Unless you brought some along, you can't watch porn.”

“Well, I can't watch, but you can.”

And then Gwaine launched himself at Percival. 

Percival took it in stride. He was used to his boyfriend taking advantage of his size, so he picked Gwaine up easily and set him down on the writing desk just as another roll of thunder clattered. 

Gwaine noted Arthur's lack of protest, and from his angle, he could see that Arthur hadn't left the room.

They'd become friends in university, and in all that time, Gwaine only knew Arthur to date women. He also knew that Arthur never seemed to enjoy it. His head never turned when a beautiful woman walked by, but when a fit lad jogged past or when Gwaine himself took off his shirt for fencing practice, Arthur's eyes would light up in interest. 

Gwaine could only conclude that it was Arthur's sense of duty to produce an heir that kept him from acknowledging what he truly wanted. And Gwaine was just bored enough, thanks to the storm, to test it out.

He slid his hands under Percival's shirt and helped him lift the garment off before hastily removing his own. Percival groaned and buried his face in Gwaine's neck, tonguing at the spot that drove Gwaine crazy. 

Percival looked over his shoulder at Arthur, who was stock still on the bed, staring. 

“Is this okay?” he asked calmly.

“Yeah,” Arthur whispered as a stroke of lightning illuminated the room, followed immediately by another loud boom.

“If you want,” Gwaine said slowly, trying not to spook him. “We don't mind sharing.”

Another forceful crack of lightning lit up the room, and with it the energy seemed to shift. As if suddenly recharged, sparked by the storm, Arthur stood and stalked toward Gwaine and Percival. 

“Are you sure?” 

Gwaine swallowed hard, the intensity on Arthur's face matched the quaking thunder. “Percival's fancied you for years.”

“Yeah?”

Percival didn't answer. Instead, he glanced at Gwaine, who nodded his permission, before he leaned down to press his lips against Arthur's. Gwaine could see the moment Arthur let himself give in, parting his lips and melting against Percival's sturdy frame.

When they broke apart, Arthur was panting. 

“Come 'ere,” Gwaine murmured.

Percival guided Arthur until he was standing between Gwaine's legs, his back to Gwaine's front. Percival unbuttoned Arthur's shirt and Gwaine pulled it from his shoulders, tossing it aside. He wasted no time, tracing his fingertips up and down Arthur's back, before brushing his lips against the prince's neck.

Arthur leaned back into Gwaine, giving Percival the opportunity to step forward, sandwiching Arthur between them. 

“Kiss him,” Percival ordered.

Arthur turned his head, the angle awkward, stretching to meet Gwaine's lips in a chaste kiss. As Arthur pulled away, Gwaine growled in unison with the rumble of thunder outside.

“Bed,” he stammered.

They stumbled across the room and into the master bedroom, divesting themselves of jeans and pants, before tumbling to bed in a heap. 

Gwaine knew Arthur's flesh had never been touched by a man before, only by women expecting something grand from the prince, for him to do all the work, and not worshiping him as they should. Percival seemed to have the same thought in mind, and they worked together, mapping Arthur's skin with their tongues and their fingertips to the steady beat of the rain pouring outside. 

Arthur writhed beneath them, the words “yes” and “more” spilling from his lips like oaths as Gwaine worked his nipples and Percival swallowed down around his cock. 

The storm swirled outside, fueling them, their ministrations growing more intense and frantic, until the cry of Arthur's orgasm swallowed by a crack lightning.

* * *

**22.**

Arthur was making breakfast naked. The sizzle and smell of bacon was what the freshly showered and dressed Merlin had first noticed before the perfect round globes of his boyfriends arse came into his view. Some might be worried by the fact that Arthur seemed to have lost the ability to find pants around the time that he had quit his high paying job, but Merlin could only see the massive benefits. 

Merlin’s morning erection, which he had already taken care of before the shower when he had kneeled beside Arthur’s head and filled his open mouth, was now back at full force. 

He could not help but play with himself through his jeans as Arthur was too busy with the bacon to even notice Merlin standing there, rock hard. If Merlin had thought Arthur had been irresistible in his suits and ties, it was nothing to the sight of a constantly naked Arthur. 

The sight was edible, the soft cock dangling between Arthur’s legs made Merlin’s mouth water. He wanted to suck him down, feel him harden on his tongue, taste the first drops of precum and feast on his cock until he was filled. 

At this rate he was going to come in his pants. 

“Bacons almost ready,” Arthur said, noticing Merlin standing there. A double glance back and the sight of Arthur’s cock twitching as his eyes noticed where Merlin’s hand was playing with his obvious bulge was the undoing of Merlin. 

A few strides across the room and he sunk to his knees and lived out his fantasy. First suckling each ball into his mouth before taking the top of the now hard cock into his mouth and hollowing his cheeks as he sucked. 

Arthur still had not showered yet that morning and as Merlin let go of the delicious cock and nuzzled the coarse hair between the balls and the thigh he noticed where some of either Arthur or Merlin’s come was dried from last night, and where Merlin’s diligent clean up had missed this one spot. He bit down at that spot then tongued the dry come, making Arthur cry out and shudder above him. 

Merlin did not bother to pull his rock hard cock from his jeans. His hand outlined its length but Merlin held back on his own pleasure as he feasted on Arthur’s body. 

He took Arthur deep in his mouth and started to move up and down in a fast, brutal pace. Arthur’s whimpers and yells were the perfect substitute for caffeine. Merlin could not remember the last time he had felt this awake before breakfast. 

Arthur’s hand grabbed his hair and yanked him off his cock. It took a moment to realize the low, keening whimper was coming from his now free mouth. 

Arthur’s one free hand was stripping his cock in fast and brutal pulls. The slide made slick from Merlin’s saliva. 

“Want your breakfast?” Arthur asked, gasping, red in the face and chest and Merlin thanked the heavens Arthur was always naked and ready for him. “Open up, let me give it to you. I know what you need for breakfast. Come on. Oh god, Merlin.”

As Arthur’s come hit his cheek and then his mouth, Merlin felt his body tense and his own release fill his pants. Blushing deeply he couldn’t hide his sticky face or burning blush from Arthur’s dazed gaze since his hand was still an iron grip in his hair. Slowly, as both of their breathing returned to normal, Arthur’s hand loosened and stroked his cheek and played with the semen found there. 

“I think the bacon burned,” Arthur finally said, causing Merlin to laugh. 

“Ugh, I need to change,” Merlin complained, wrinkling his nose. 

“Eggs should be ready when you come back,” Arthur promised. 

Merlin pressed a quick kiss to the soft prick in front of him and got to his feet. Stealing one of the extremely burnt pieces of bacon, Merlin crunched down and patted Arthur on the back. 

“Sorry they’re ruined,” Arthur sighed. 

“Don’t be, I love them crunchy,” Merlin kissed his shoulder and went to change.

* * *

**23.**

Merlin had never liked being on top before he’d met Arthur. Said he felt too exposed, his whole gangly body on show for the dubious pleasure of the man beneath; he’d been too self-conscious to let go, to lose himself, too focused on making sure he looked his best, a difficult proposition, overwhelmingly aware of his narrow chest and slim arms, the way his pale skin blotched pink when he was aroused, it all just made him want to hide in the safety of the dark, curtains drawn, lights off.

Planting his feet upon the bed, Arthur ground his hips up in small, harsh circles, hands sliding along Merlin’s sides to his hips, grappling for a firm hold on the sweat slick skin, hauling Merlin down onto his cock with every thrust, seeking to get deeper faintly aware of the headboard banging a new dent into the wall.

God he loved this, loved having Merlin astride him, seeing the difference between when they’d first gotten together, Merlin all angles and flushed cheeks, eyes embarrassed as he hunched forward over Arthur, trying to hide his body. Now though, Merlin was uninhibited, chasing his pleasure as Arthur released one hip, ran his hand up to Merlin’s neck, fingers threading into the damp strands of hair and hauling Merlin’s lips towards his own, mollified at the loss of the sweet, sweet depth and heat by the panting slick of Merlin’s mouth, those swollen lips sucking against his, agile tongue fucking into Arthur’s mouth to the same rhythm of their hips.

Merlin was convinced he couldn’t get enough of Arthur, like this, like he was only for Merlin; all arrogance stripped away, all sarcastic retorts and scathing jabs fallen back amongst the trail of clothes that led to their bed. If anyone had asked him, back before Arthur had muttered ‘Sod it,’ during their Wii Fit Friday Competition, dropped his controller and tackled a startled but more than willing Merlin onto the armchair, mouth gentle but insistent as Arthur’s hands slid beneath Merlin’s shirt, back before kisses and dates and love and shared keys, Merlin would have bet Arthur to be a bit of a selfish lover. Arthur had set about ruthlessly proving Merlin wrong.

“Arthur,” the moan little more than a whisper as Merlin squirmed, the feel of Arthur’s nails scoring down his spine and along his ribs, that gorgeous ring stuttering along his skin, the silver band a dull pressure in comparison. He couldn’t keep up kissing Arthur, his lips clumsy, grunts punching out into the air with each thrust as Arthur scratched his nails down Merlin’s sides once more. Merlin couldn’t help it, back bowing, head lolling heavy backwards as he struggled upright, leaning back on Arthur’s knees for support, hands running down Arthur’s arms to his hands, retuning them both to his hips, pressing down in silent urge for Arthur to keep them there as he splayed his legs even wider across Arthur’s hips, thighs burning as he rode Arthur faster as he pressed one hand against Arthur’s chest for leverage, the sweaty chest hair crinkly beneath his fingers, nipple a hard peak beneath his palm. 

“Touch,” Arthur bit out, palms itching to reach for the teasing length of Merlin’s cock, so hard and slick as it bounced in time to Merlin’s wild movements, slapping against his stomach. “I want,” he dug his nails into Merlin’s hips, clinging to where he knew Merlin wanted his hands, “I want –please - Merlin, God- show me.”

Merlin smirked as he sat back further, slowing his hips to little more than rocking, free hand circling Arthur’s bared nipple, rolling it between his fingers before sliding them down Arthur’s stomach and up onto his own thigh, teasing them both. Merlin bypassed his cock and scratched instead through the black hair that trailed from his navel to his groin, swirling the short hairs before dipping down to cradle his balls in his palm, already tight and high against his body.

“Merliiin,” his name was like a curse, spat out from behind gritted teeth. 

“This?” Merlin circled his cock loosely, hips fucking forward into his fist and back onto Arthur’s cock as he stared down at his lover lower lip bitten between his teeth. “This what you want? To watch me?”

Arthur grunted his response, fingernails digging harsh into Merlin’s skin.

“Then watch.”

* * *

**24.**

The first time he held Morgana in his arms, the heavens tried to warn him. Thunder cracked the world in two.

But he heard her cry out, and if Merlin knew one thing about Morgana, it was she feared nothing. He went running, forgetting the task Uncle Gaius had sent him on, and found her in bed, eyes wild from the nightmare the thunder had woken her from.

In that moment, they held no station. He was a boy, she was a girl, and all that mattered to Merlin was helping her.

The second time, she came to him. As the storm raged outside Pendragon Manor, Morgana quivered on his room's threshold and uttered a single query.

"Can I stay?"

It became their ritual. Whenever rain descended after sunset, they found each other and hid away, wrapped around each other in a tangle of limbs. It was just supposed to be about comfort.

Until it wasn't.

Her face was buried in the crook of his neck. Sixteen-year-old Merlin had long ago learned how to angle his body to hide his erection from her. Later, after she crept back to her bed, he'd jerk off and remember how plush and warm her curves her against him, but he'd never betray her trust while she remained.

"Merlin..."

The latest storm rolled outside, but nothing as incidental as thunder could ever come between them. Her breath fanned hot over his skin, seeping its way into his ear, beneath his collar, stippling his flesh in goosebumps. His chest ached from how hard he fought not to let it show. "Yeah?"

But she didn't speak again. Instead, her lips followed the path her breath had, tentative and ticklish, as her bolder hand slid around Merlin's waist to slip inside his T-shirt.

He'd loved her since he was nine years old, when he first learned just how human the perfect Morgana Pendragon really was. Beyond these moments, he was still just awkward Merlin, unseen and unacknowledged, never sharing more than what they whispered to each other in the dark of storms. Uther would never allow his only daughter to be friends with a servant.

Merlin wasn't a fool, though. If she was offering, he was taking.

His arms tightened, his hands sliding downward to cup her ass. Morgana whimpered as he hauled her upright, better aligning their bodies so her full breasts crushed against his chest, but the sound immediately shifted into a groan. Her lips parted, her head tilted, and then there it was, the hard kisses he craved, her hunger as rabid as his own.

She was the one to strip first, clawing at his sweats until her hot hand wrapped around his cock. He thrust up into her fist on instinct, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from coming right then. From there, it became a blur, so much like the storm, moments of brilliant clarity as skin touched skin followed by the longer rumbles of moans and murmurs. Every dream he'd ever had, every promise he'd ever made to her, sprung to life with her touch.

Her breathy gasp when she came incited his own explosion. Their sweat mingled, fusing their bodies together as much as Merlin's caresses up and down her back bound them in other ways.

Letting her go back to her room alone was the second hardest thing he ever did.

The most difficult was watching her walk away for uni two years later without saying a word.

Against Uncle Gaius's wishes, he moved out of the manor, finding a small flat of his own, a life that didn't have memories of Morgana in every corner. The first night it rained in his new place, he stood outside beneath the sulky clouds and let it soak him to the skin. Each distant rumble reverberated through him, but the lightning strikes were few and far between.

The storm was beginning to abate when headlights turned into the close. He paid no mind to it, lost in his memories, until the car jerked to a stop at the curb in front of him. 

When Morgana climbed out, his heart lodged in his throat. He devoured the sight of her, unable to move even when she stood in front of him.

She lifted her eyes, her wet hair plastered to her cheeks. "Can I stay?"

Fresh lightning blinded him for a split second, but his answer wouldn't have changed. In all the years he'd loved her, it never had.

"Always."

* * *

**25.**

The vision came to Morgana at night, beginning as a memory: Arthur naked except for the stag’s antlers upon his head, coming toward her in the light of the bonfire. Morgana woke to the sound of a stag bellowing, his call sounding again and again. She opened her eyes as dawn broke across the Isle of the Blessed, her heart thundering, and knew Arthur would come to her. She shivered with anticipation and with fear, and set out to meet him. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” Morgana said.

“You’re always so quick to strike,” Arthur said, smiling at her. 

She glared at him. “Why are you here?” 

“It’s Samhain.”

Morgana stiffened. “That night on Beltane was a ritual to join your kingship to the land’s magic—it gives you no privileges now. The king belongs in Camelot.”

“And the priestess in her Isle,” Arthur said in return. He placed his hands, his touch feather-light, upon Morgana’s rounded belly. “But sometimes the two will meet.”

Morgana lifted her chin defiantly, and began to draw the hood of her cloak over her head. Arthur’s hands caught hers, drawing the hood back down, and gently clasped her hands in his. 

“We were children together,” Morgana said. She kept her voice steady, if not her pulse.

“And now we are not. But can we be neither king nor priestess now?” Arthur asked. He brought her hands to his mouth, and kissed the insides of her wrists.

Morgana’s breath came in sharp gasps as he kissed her, her body betraying her as it always did when it came to Arthur, the same way it did now as she carried his child.

Arthur fell to his knees in front of her. He pressed his forehead to her stomach, his breath steaming in the morning chill. “Please, Morgana,” he said at last.

Morgana lay her fingers in his hair, and bent to kiss the top of his head. “Yes, Arthur,” she said softly. She knew no other path to follow.

Arthur snapped like a string had been cut. He kissed her urgently in every place his mouth could reach, and touched her with his hands where it couldn’t, from her belly to her breasts to her parted legs, where she was already damp from wanting him.

Morgana wrapped her arms tightly around Arthur’s neck, any lingering doubts gone. He reached up to gather her into his arms and guide her down to the forest floor. He stripped off his tunic, tucking it underneath her lower back and hips for support, watching her with wondering eyes. He carefully parted the folds of her cloak, running his hands over her stomach gently, caressing it, and pressed a kiss to her navel. 

Morgana’s nipples hardened in the cool air as they were exposed, more sensitive now with her breasts grown fuller to keep pace with the child growing inside her. As if he somehow knew, Arthur closed his warm mouth over one nipple and then the other, soothing their ache. Morgana placed her hands in his hair once again, guiding him downward. He moved obediently, pausing once again to press a kiss to her stomach, and then pushed her legs apart.

Arthur did not have a clever tongue. Unlike Morgana, who was accustomed to telling silver-tongued lies or twisting words to call a spell to life, Arthur didn’t sway the truth to suit his needs. Instead, his was an honest, open tongue, saying words that became the truth. And it was that tongue now intent on giving her pleasure, straightforward and true in its purpose. He licked at her, delving deeper and deeper into her until she came underneath his tongue, her whole body shaking as her climax overtook her. 

Panting, Morgana watched Arthur through lowered eyelids as he lifted his mouth away. He slid strong fingers underneath her thighs, easing them apart. Morgana was grateful for the deep, springy moss as he entered her swiftly, sweat beading on his back as he began to thrust. 

“Gods—Goddess, Morgana,” he said brokenly, and spread a hand over her stomach. “I want this—I want this for us.” He moved inside her, rocking forward with each hard thrust until came with a shout, his cry echoing throughout the Isle like that morning’s stag before him. Morgana shuddered with pleasure, the familiar warmth spreading inside her as Arthur came.

Her eyes drifted shut as another image overtook her: a crown upon her head as a queen and priestess both, sitting on a throne with Arthur beside her, their child playing at their feet. Vision or ambition, she prayed to the Goddess that it would come true.

* * *

**26.**

It's accidental, how Gwen discovers the site and she makes sure to bookmark the site under something innocuous. It is the perfect site, posting mostly pictures and the occasional gif. The first picture she stumbles upon is a collage of breasts and dicks and her mind breaks, a rush of heat pooling between her thighs. 

That night is the first time Gwen touches her body with intent. She doesn't dare slide her fingers beneath her panties, just presses against the material, but it's enough to make her gasp with pleasure. The feeling is scary in its intensity and she moves her hand before anything happens, curling her fingers into her pillow. The throb between her legs settles, enough for her to fall asleep. She wakes feeling unsatisfied.

She doesn't try to touch herself for a few more days, but eventually her curiosity wins out, and she opens the website again. Gwen's alone in the house, which means she doesn't have to worry about someone walking in on or overhearing her. Masturbating already makes her feel bad enough; she doesn't need her father or brother knowing she's interested in sex. 

Masturbation seems like it should just be easy and natural, exploring her body, but Gwen just can't jump straight into the process. She strips down to her panties (she tries, at first, to take those off, but the thought makes her blush and she leaves them on), and curls up in bed, checking her email and Facebook and trying to act like everything is normal. She's not going to be doing anything, it's just another night, and and - 

Gwen closes out Facebook and opens up the website, mentally forcing herself to not slam the laptop closed. It's a huge struggle, and she has to take a few deep breaths before she can look at the pictures on her screen.

There have to be thousands of images and she goes through them slowly, feeling the heat pool between her thighs, her nipples tightening into hard nubs. She resolutely doesn't touch them. 

The pictures vary from sweet and almost innocent - or at least as innocent as pornography can be - but it doesn't take too long before there are pictures featuring people bound in rope, or blindfolded, or gagged. Sometimes all three. 

It's the picture of two girls kneeling on the bed, one with her arms bound and stretched over her head, that pushes Gwen over the edge. She identifies with the girl and it hits a spot she never even knew existed. She wants to be that girl, bound and tied and stuck in one place, with someone else touching her. She shifts away from the computer, curling on her side and slides her fingers beneath her panties, seeking a relief from the tension that makes her body throb and ache.

It doesn't take much to cause her to tremble and arch as she massages her clit, but it's not enough. She wants something more, but she can't identify what.

On the nightstand, her phone suddenly lights up with a call from Morgana, vibrating against the wood. Gwen grabs the phone with her free hand and shifts to lay on her back, sliding the phone between her legs. She's thankful for the cotton barrier of her panties now, because it's easy to move the phone against her pussy and not worry about destroying anything. The vibrations are perfect, especially when she slides a finger inside herself. Altogether, it pushes her higher, the tension rising, and she can feel something shifting in her body. She's so close.

The call ends and Gwen whimpers, disappointed, body sagging back to the bed. She's ready to call it quits when Morgana calls again, and the vibrations go straight to Gwen's core. Her body clenches around her finger, toes curling in her sheets, and she whimpers Morgana's name. When he comes to, she's panting, the sound loud in her ears, and her body feels heavy. 

Gwen moves her hands, pulling her finger out, and brings the phone to her ear. Morgana will probably try calling again if she doesn't pick up, and this way she can talk to the other girl a moment, hang up, and go to sleep. 

"Hello?" she says, her voice still unsteady and uneven. 

"Did I interrupt anything?" Morgana asks, laughing. She sounds breathless, and Gwen shivers at the sound.


	6. Group B (no warnings)

**27.**

Merlin hasn’t heard the soothing crunch of boots on gravel in nearly eight months, but that doesn’t stop him tearing back the drapes to look out at the old path anyway, his mind inventing sounds he longs to hear out of grief and desperate, misplaced hope. It’s not a sound he’ll ever hear again, he knows. Even if someone happens down the walk, it will never be the same as those heavy feet and their warrior’s gait, out of place in a world that’s forgotten.

  


Arthur always came with the lightning, riding thunder to Merlin’s door and bringing the wet with him, pressing it against Merlin’s front. His mouth was electric when he kissed Merlin, the door still open and the rain blowing inside, his body shielding Merlin as he slipped cold hands under his T-shirt.

Merlin didn’t know where Arthur went, but it made him ravenous, slamming the door shut and shoving Merlin against it, holding his chin and staring at him. Merlin buried his nose in Arthur’s neck, finding him there beneath the metallic scent of rain, needing this: his skin, his sweat, precious and irreplaceable.

“Stay with me,” Merlin said for the thousandth time because he couldn’t help himself. He would never stop trying to tether Arthur to him with his magic and, when that failed, with his limbs, wrapping his arms and legs around Arthur’s back as Arthur fucked him, slow and deep, thumb in Merlin’s mouth, watching.

“What if this were the last time?” Arthur asked, and the question would have terrified Merlin instantly if he hadn’t been so far lost in the haze of arousal and Arthur, his proximity and heat and the smell of him.

“Every time is the last time,” Merlin said into his mouth, pausing to lick inside. “And the first time.” It took Merlin a moment to catch up, his stomach lurching as he realised there would never be another storm strong enough to bring Arthur to his door.

Arthur stilled him, hands strong on Merlin’s hips as he pulled away. He took Merlin’s hand and lubed it generously, said, “I want you to.”

Merlin pressed his fingers to Arthur’s entrance, a first in their centuries of being not quite together but never irrevocably separated. He felt Arthur’s heat, watched his face—the downturned corners of his mouth, the furrow of his brow—every piece of this experience unique. As Merlin sunk his cock in, he pushed Arthur’s fringe back, held his hand across the seam at his hairline as though Arthur were as feverish as Merlin felt. He startled a gasp out of Arthur and then a moan until he was groaning in earnest, eyes closed and chest heaving. Merlin tried to memorise each sensation: the curling of Arthur’s fingers around his arm, the way Arthur’s breaths came short and loud, his body quaking with how new this was, how final.

“Wish I’d let you do this before,” Arthur said.

Nothing could be done to rectify this, to give Arthur more time. All his life had been used up, squandered on a handful of frantic fucks in Merlin’s cabin, their hunger for touch destroying all capacity for growth together. Time and longing had made them tired, made them crack apart when they touched, but they hadn’t changed at all.

Arthur promised an end to lamenting the sunshine, the places they couldn’t touch and the things they couldn’t have. With his release sticky between them and Merlin’s thumb fucking into his arse, rubbing his come deeper as though it would allow them some permanence, Arthur told him:

“I know how to die.”

  


For the second time, Merlin held Arthur through his passing, tore open every old wound that had never fully healed. He kissed his king, loved him desperately, and buried him, not above water but underground, permanent this time. Arthur would someday be nothing but bones, and Merlin … Merlin would always _be_.

  


Merlin can’t help feeling that Arthur has really died this time, that being born again means losing everything they were. It hadn’t even been half a life, cut to shreds and drowning in all the time they couldn’t share, but it had still been Arthur then. A new Arthur is unthinkable, pale and incomplete, and Merlin knows that even when he’s lost his own identity, the intimate knowledge of Arthur will never leave him.

“You’ll find me,” Arthur had said. “You’ll make me remember.”

Merlin sits in his cabin and waits to forget.

* * *

**28.**

Merlin’s head jerks up when his monitor lights up with the words “Entry : Arthur Pendragon - Front Door”, and he groans. Not again.

Wiping the speck of drool from his lips, Merlin carefully consults The Map for possible thunderstorms, and, sure enough, there are four today. Four which weren’t there—Merlin checks his watch—a hour ago when he closed his eyes. Something is up, but Merlin isn’t sure what. 

Ignoring his monitor, which now flashes “Exit : Gwaine Sullivan – 1st East Window”, Merlin pushes back his chair and waits for his very unwelcome visitor, the Lord of Lightning and Thunder.

Soon enough, Elena pokes her head in and announces that Arthur is here, simultaneously wiggling her eyebrows. It’s the tenth day in a row he’s been here, do something about it Merlin, her eyebrows say. Merlin lifts one eyebrow to say it’s none of your business, shoo, before she withdraws and is replaced by Arthur.

“Your Excellency!” Arthur says, striding over to hug Merlin. When Merlin manages to avoid it and gives Arthur a very firm handshake instead, Arthur’s face falls minutely before his expression becomes neutral again. “Gwaine called me in and said something about emergency storms?”

“I didn’t hear about them, but they’re on The Map.” Merlin answers curtly. He waves his hand at the door, slamming it behind Arthur. “Look, I don’t know what you’re playing at, Arthur, but it’s got to stop. Earth’s environment can’t take that many thunderstorms in a month, and frankly, neither can my sanity.”

At this, Arthur’s expression transforms into smirk. “Your sanity?”

Merlin refuses to be intimidated. He _was_ the God of the Skies after all. “Yes my sanity. I’ve been running around making sure everyone else is on track, not to mention I’ve had to completely clear out the clouds just to make sure Earth gets enough sun on a cloudy day. Do you know how hard that is?” 

Arthur waves his hand dismissively, moving closer to Merlin, “I’ve heard it’s very easy.” And Merlin curses Gwaine and his big mouth. “I’ve also heard that your sanity is going out the window because of,” Arthur whispers, “something else.”

Merlin can feel his blush creeping up his neck. Scoffing, he averts his eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself.” 

“Flattering myself, am I? I’ve heard that you pine for me, and become grumpy at your minions on the days I don’t come in.” Arthur says, leering on the word “come” and invading Merlin’s personal space, causing his breath to hitch. Feeling his the blood rush south, Merlin backs up, horrified. 

“I don’t--!” comes his immediate denial, but Arthur plows on. 

“You shouldn’t be so stubborn,” Merlin’s back hits the wall, “You’re allowed say you like me.” Arthur’s breath fans across Merlin’s lips. “After all, I like you too.” And Arthur’s lips are on his, and it’s glorious and molten arousal spreads everywhere through Merlin’s body.

He can’t deny his attraction anymore and Merlin gives in. Kisses Arthur back. 

Arthur kisses exactly the way Merlin expects him to, hot and furious, licking everywhere as if claiming Merlin for himself. Moaning, Merlin bucks his hips and is rewarded immediately with Arthur pressing him into the wall, grinding his hips into Merlin, creating lovely friction.

Merlin’s body seems to have a mind of its own as his hands pull Arthur even closer, his legs automatically falling apart to give Arthur more access, his head falling back to expose his neck for Arthur’s perusal. 

“Yes, _yes_ , oh god—“ Merlin babbles, barely able to hold on, and Arthur’s tongue does something filthy to his neck along with a particularly hard thrust, Merlin comes with a cry of “Arthur!”. It slams into him, fireworks made of pleasure exploding under his skin, whipping around him and cocooning him. 

Merlin barely hears Arthur’s own strangled groan as Merlin comes down from his high, struggling to regain his breath

“So..” Merlin whispers, wanting to clarify what he heard earlier “You like me?” 

Arthur gives him a blinding smile, “Yes, I do.” 

“And that’s why there have been unnecessary storms this month?”

Arthur at least has the decency to blush and avert is eyes. “Yes.”

Merlin’s lips twitch. “Want to go back to my place?” The look that Arthur gives him is enough to make him teleport them into his bedroom, and stay there until the next morning.

* * *

**29.**

Arthur wasn’t surprised to see him already at his desk when he walked into the lecture hall, his posture deceptively laid back, his nose was buried in the class’ tome-like history text. Arthur didn’t acknowledge him when he went to the front table to prepared for the day’s classes. 

Pinpricks tickled up his spine with the sensation of being watched. “Mr. Emrys,” Arthur hedged without glancing up from his grading log. “Is there something you need?” His voice echoed in the empty room before it faded into the tick of silence. 

When Emrys failed to respond, Arthur looked up. He sat in the front row, slouched down with his legs splayed, his hand stroking a sizable bulge in the front of his jeans. Bright blue eyes locked with his own.

His pulse ratcheted up and his throat tightened. He glanced at the clock and saw that there was still fifteen minutes until the start of class, but he knew there were likely only scant minutes before other students began wandering in. “Mr. Emrys,” he warned, a pointless gesture emphasized by the growing smirk at the corner of Emrys’ lips. Arthur’s trousers grew uncomfortable.

“I have a question,” Emrys finally said, cheeky eyes, cheeky grin, cheeky _everything_ , and his hand tightened, white knuckled, around his erection. “About the Battle of the Bulge.” 

A shock of laughter burst out of him. “Are you serious? Of all the historical innuendo you could have pulled from, you went with the Battle of the Bulge? You’re getting lazy.” 

Emrys’ smile widened into something daffy and bright, warming Arthur’s chest. “But Professor, the _swelling_ of the Bulge was an important counteroffensive.” 

Arthur rolled his eyes. “I would have been more impressed had you managed to make innuendo out of the Battle of Rimini or Operation Cobra.” 

“Operation Cobra? That’s even more obvious than the Battle of the Bulge.” 

“Is it? Hmmm.” Arthur moved from behind his desk and approached Emrys, slow and deliberate. He stopped in front of Emrys’ desk, positioning himself to tower over the other man. He watched Emrys’ pupils dilate and his breath quicken. Arthur grinned and placed a palm on the ball of Emrys’ knee. He squeezed and Emrys’ breath caught. “Also, I distinctly remember telling students that questions like this were best addressed during office hours.” 

The door to the lecture hall flung open, startling them both. Several students entered the hall. 

“Office hours, Mr. Emrys,” Arthur repeated as he rushed back behind his desk in a flurry that was in no way reminiscent of a strategic retreat. 

Class began with its usual pomp and circumstance and Arthur avoided looking in Emrys’ direction. When he finally chanced a glance, Emrys’ hand was back on the front of his jeans. Arthur resisted the urge to drag him from the room by the rim of his over-large ear. 

Every squeeze, twist, and stroke eroded Arthur’s calm and composure. Emrys rubbed the front of his jeans in small aborted motions so the students next to him were none-the-wiser. Emrys drew his lower lip between his teeth and began to bite and suckle, causing Arthur to choke and stumble over his words as he outlined Operation Blackcock for the class. 

He ignored Emrys’ snicker. 

After an excruciating and long class, Arthur dismissed everyone and wondered if he’d have time to go to the loo before his next lecture started. Emrys, impertinent and arrogant as ever, sat in his desk with a challenging grin and an erection that must be bordering on painful after an hour of teasing himself for Arthur’s benefit. 

“I regret the day I ever said you could audit my class,” Arthur said. “You’re a menace and I bar you from ever coming back.” 

“Lies.” Emrys grinned. “I perhaps pushed things a little too far, but don’t pretend you didn’t love every second of it. Have time for a quickie before your next class?” 

Arthur glowered. “You know I don’t.”

Emrys stood and leaned forward to kiss him on his cheek. “Then I’ll make it up to you tonight at home: a private detention with Dr. Pendragon.”

Arthur wanted to roll his eyes, but a thousand colorful scenarios flashed through his mind. “Set out the paddle and you’ve got yourself a deal,” Arthur whispered, mindful of the students trickling into the hall for his next class. 

Emrys’ eyes went dark. “Are you going to punish me?”

“Thoroughly.”

* * *

**30.**

Merlin woke to the insistent buzzing of his phone. He groaned, fumbling blindly on his bedside table until his hand closed over it, fingers sliding over the screen.

"'Lo?"

"…who's this?"

"Merlin," Merlin answered automatically, still half asleep, and then frowned. He pulled the phone away from his ear long enough to glance at the screen, and didn't recognize the number on it. "Wait, who are you?"

"Arthur." A pause. "Uh, sorry, I've obviously got the wrong number."

Merlin snorted. "It's fine, it's only –" he checks the clock beside his bed. "…four in the morning."

"Yeah." Arthur sounded embarrassed. "I, uh. I'm going to hang up now."

"Okay," Merlin said, and felt an odd pinch of disappointment. "Hope you reach whoever it was you were trying to get."

Arthur huffed out a laugh. "Thanks. Sorry about waking you up."

The line went dead and Merlin sighed, setting the phone back onto his nightstand. The sexiest voice he'd heard in ages, and it was just a bloody wrong number.

*

"Is this Merlin?"

The voice sounded hesitant, and Merlin shifted the phone to his other ear. "Arthur?"

"Yeah." Arthur chuckled a little, and it sounded nervous. "Look, I know this is odd, but I'm having a debate with my sister and all of our friends are equally divided, and I couldn't think of any other neutral party, so, um. Could you help?"

Merlin laughed. "I don't see why not."

"Great," Arthur said, voice brightening. "Okay, Morgana – that's my sister – says that sausage is the superior breakfast meat, but I think bacon is better."

"Definitely bacon," Merlin said, grinning as Arthur crowed in victory and said something to someone on his end.

"Thanks, Merlin, I appreciate the help."

"Anytime," Merlin said, and was surprised to find he meant it.

*

Figuring fair was fair, Merlin called Arthur the third time.

"So I was wondering," Merlin said when Arthur picked up. "If someone wanted to watch Star Wars, but his best friend and roommate wanted to watch a bad horror movie marathon on telly, which one would win?"

"Ooh, tough one," Arthur said. "As classic as Star Wars is, I think I'd have to go with the marathon. Those don't happen every day."

"Exactly!" Merlin exclaimed, and Arthur laughed.

When they hung up thirty minutes later, Merlin gave in and saved Arthur into his contacts.

*

"M&Ms or Skittles?"

"M&Ms, obviously. Beer or wine?"

"Beer. Wine is for when I'm having dinner with my father. Ice cream or cake?"

"Both together. Jennifer Lawrence or Liam Hemsworth?"

"Oh, Christ. Can I say both together as well?"

"Who _wouldn't_ say that?"

*

"So Merlin, where do you work?"

"I'm a video game designer. How about you?"

"Architect. I, uh. I own Pendragon Designs, actually."

"Oh, really? Don't think I've ever heard of it." Arthur spluttered on the other end of the line, and Merlin laughed. "I'm kidding, you guys are huge. Pretty sure you designed the building I live in."

"I'll refrain from asking what you think," Arthur said, and Merlin could almost hear his eyes roll. "So what games have you created? I like to play a bit when I've got the time."

Merlin rattled off a list, and flushed with pleasure when several of Arthur's favorites where on it.

*

"Merlin," Arthur gasped into his ear, and Merlin groaned. "Why haven't we done this sooner? Your voice has been driving me _mad_."

"You – yours too," Merlin managed. His hand was wrapped tightly around his cock, his other pressing his phone tightly to his ear. "Oh, god, Arthur, you have no idea. Every time we'd hang up I'd have to go lock myself in my room and have a wank."

Arthur made a choking noise. "Are you touching yourself right now?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I wish it was you."

"I want to meet you," Arthur said, breathless, and if Merlin listened hard enough he could hear the sound of flesh on flesh. "There's a pub, the Sword & Dragon –"

"I know it," Merlin said, closing his eyes. "Saturday night, at seven?"

"Oh, god." Arthur groaned, and Merlin's hips jerked, cock sliding through the tight ring of his hand. "I'm going to take you home after, get my hands all over you. I want to fuck you, feel you around my cock, make you beg me to let you come –"

" _Fuck_ ," Merlin choked out, and pulsed in his hand as he came all over his stomach.

Arthur's breath hitched and he grunted, and Merlin shuddered as he realized Arthur was coming, too.

"Saturday at seven," Arthur finally slurred out.

Merlin grinned dopily at his ceiling. "Can't wait."

* * *

**31.**

Merlin places his keys on the table next to the door and yells, "I'm home!"

"In the bedroom!" is Gwaine's response, and something about the tone of his voice gives Merlin pause. He mulls over it for a moment, then quickly takes his shoes off and throws his backpack onto the living room couch.

The bedroom door is wide open, and it gives Merlin a perfect view: Arthur completely bound, his entire body covered in criss-crossing ropes. Arthur's ass cheeks are faintly red too, and that just makes Merlin groan, knowing that Gwaine spanked Arthur just to display him like this.

Gwaine is sitting on the chair next to the bed, and he's stroking his erection through his jeans. "We've been waiting for you."

Merlin nods and takes a wobbly step forward. Arthur's glaring though, despite the gag, and that finally gets the gears in Merlin's head going. Right. He takes a deep breath and strides over to Gwaine with purpose.

The kiss he gives Gwaine is sloppy, both out of desperation and because he wants to give Arthur a good show. He places his hand on top of Gwaine's and urges him to stroke faster, until Gwaine's thighs start to jerk.

Arthur's whine breaks them out of it. Merlin pulls away. It takes him a moment to get control over his emotions, but when he does he manages to give Arthur a stern look. "You're gagged for a reason."

He hears Gwaine suppress a laugh, and Arthur struggles against the ropes. The way he's tied, with his wrists attached by a short length of rope to his ankles, he really can't do much more than wiggle his reddened ass. Drool is already starting to slip out of the corner of his gagged mouth, and Merlin squeezes Gwaine's shoulder to steady himself.

"Maybe we should just leave him like this," Merlin suggests. "Teach him how to be good."

Arthur's eyes widen and he thrusts his hips forward, the tip of his cock dragging against the bed sheets. 

"I don't know," Gwaine responds, "it looks like he just might rut against the bed if we don't do anything."

Fuck, Merlin would love to watch Arthur do just that. An idea for another time, perhaps. He gets on the bed and arranges Arthur into a sitting position, his cock jutting straight at Gwaine. Merlin tugs on it briefly, then leans in close and drags his tongue along the shell of Arthur's ear. Arthur shudders and sags into him.

"Gwaine got you all trussed up for me. Love how you look," Merlin says, loud enough for Gwaine to hear. Arthur groans again, but he's stopped struggling, doesn't even move when Merlin begins pumping him in earnest.

Merlin lets his gaze flick over to Gwaine, who hasn't so much as undone the zipper on his pants. He seems content to just bide his time. "Shoulda seen him struggle, Merlin. Had to spank him before he settled enough to be tied."

When Merlin palms Arthur's ass, Arthur squirms. Precome dribbles out of his cock onto Merlin's fingers.

"Well, he's good and submissive now," Merlin says, "just waiting to be used."

Yeah, Arthur obviously likes the sound of that -- his head falls backward against Merlin's shoulder, and it's such an invitation that Merlin can't resist sucking a hickey onto him. He keeps stroking Arthur, varying his grip anywhere from feather-light to too-tight.

The bed shifts, and Merlin looks up to see Gwaine sitting on the other side of Arthur. He's already got lube on his fingers and Merlin pulls on the ropes to keep Arthur distracted, so he's caught by surprise when Gwaine's fingers plunge in.

After that, it doesn't take long to get Arthur off, not with the two of them tag-teaming him until Arthur is sobbing through the gag. Merlin pulls the gag off the moment Arthur is spent and shoves his own cock in there, because he really can't wait longer. Arthur's mouth is slack but it's slick and warm and exactly what Merlin needs.

\--

Later, Merlin asks, "What brought this on?"

Arthur buries his head in Merlin's shoulder. "Nothing. Doesn't matter anymore."

Gwaine strokes Arthur's hair. "Yeah, I think everything's good now. But you're a sport, Merlin. Sorry I didn't give you time to prepare."

It should bother him, but Merlin's just glad his boyfriends have learned some conflict resolution without him chaperoning. "Next time, I want to see you tying him up."

"Deal," Arthur says, and kisses them both.

* * *

**32.**

The ropes are beautiful, but they're there for a reason. Arthur wants to help Merlin be good. Arthur doesn't have to try to make Merlin into a work of art, because he already is one, but he loses himself too fast, he squirms and he writhes and he doesn't deliberately disobey but he can't control himself, sometimes.

That's okay. That's what Arthur's for. 

Arthur lips along the rope that slides between Merlin's pectoral muscles, and watches him shiver. 'You can make as much noise as you like,' he says, soft against Merlin's skin. 'But don't move, okay Merlin? Don't move.'

The instruction is for show, really. Merlin's tied kneeling, ankles to thighs, wrists to wrists and elbows to elbows. He can topple over, and he can toss his head, and that's about the limit. 

'Green?' Arthur adds, murmuring. 

Merlin nods, hair flopping sweaty in his eyes. 'Green,' he breathes. 'Please -'

'Shhh,' Arthur says, thumbing Merlin's soft mouth open and bending to kiss him. 'I've got you. Tell me what you want.' 

Merlin trembles against, within, the ropes, and licks into Arthur's mouth hungrily. He strains - Arthur can feel the sinew of him - until the bindings press into his skin. 'Make me take it,' he says hotly. 'Stretch me, Arthur, put me where you want me, hold me down. Make me do what you want -' and Arthur grabs the criss-cross lattice between Merlin's shoulderblades and pulls until he arcs like electricity, knees planted, thighs spread, crown of head kissing the mattress and between those points all the glorious slinky naked sweat-wet skin of him - red and white and pink, and his cock standing proud, framed in rope. 

Arthur muscles in between Merlin's knees and cages down over him, bites his collarbone under a rope so that every move will chafe it, so that Merlin will have the marks he loves, the pressure and contact he loves, even when Arthur is too preoccupied elsewhere, and shifts his grip from the rope at Merlin's shoulders to the ones knotted like a pearl necklace (and there's a thought for later) around his throat. 

He twists his fingers, tightens everything up, and Merlin takes one last deep breath before Arthur restricts his airways. It makes his chest inflate, puts his nipples on show even more, and Arthur can't resist. He lets his fingers twitch in amongst his knotwork, tighter and looser and Merlin pants, gasps, wheezes, while Arthur licks and sucks on his nipples. 

'Fuck,' Merlin manages to slide between his airless noises. 'Arthur. Wanna. Need. _Harder_ -' and Arthur nips and runs his teeth over that tender, soft, puckered and peaked skin, and feels how hard Merlin is fighting to stay still, be good. He can't help grinning, and moves lower. 

Merlin's cock jerks, spills precome when Arthur licks at it. He knows it's a tease, lapping gently at the head of it, but he can't go down deep, properly, when he's stretching to keep Merlin in place. He's doing the best he can, really, and if he happens to like how hard it makes Merlin squirm, that's beside the point. 

_'Please,'_ Merlin whines, and Arthur straightens up, pulls back to look Merlin in the eye.

'Can you be good?' he asks. 'If I let go, will you stay there? While I suck your cock?'

'Yes,' Merlin hisses. 'I swea - I _swear_ -'

Arthur releases the ropes and Merlin's chest heaves involuntarily as he gets some air, but he doesn't move - stays arched the way Arthur put him, and that makes Arthur's mouth water, makes his cock jump between his legs. Makes his heart clench with something he feels stupid naming. He sucks Merlin down before he can say something ridiculous. 

Merlin babbles, locked into place by rope and his own will and _obedience_ , and Arthur licks, noses down deeper until he's breathing the true scent of his lover, raw and hot and pure. 

When Merlin comes, Arthur drinks it down - not just the taste, but the sound of Merlin's pleasure wrecked in his throat, and the way he shakes to stay true to the ropes and stays that hold him, not lose his balance, to do as he promised. And when he's sobbing, panting, spent, Arthur rises up to his own knees and lays his hand on himself, his other back to the knots at Merlin's throat, and comes on his own knuckles, on the shadows between Merlin's collarbones, on his pale skin, like milk over the flushed, bitten red of his mouth, and watches him lick it away. 

No, Arthur doesn't have to do a thing to make Merlin be a work of art.

* * *

**33.**

Running his hands up and down his arms, Merlin set about closing all of the windows in Arthur’s flat. He didn’t know why all of the windows were open in the first place. It was raining and Merlin was afraid of water getting on the floor. 

When he gets to Arthur’s study he smiles at his boyfriend who is hunched over his desk grading papers. Jumping a little at the loud clap of thunder, Merlin shuffles over noisily and struggles to slide the window closed. 

“ _Mer_ lin, I just opened that!” Arthur complains. 

Merlin holds up his hands in a sign of surrender. “Sorry.” Merlin grunts as he opens the window again. “You do know it’s raining.”

“Yes, Merlin I do have ears. Thank you.” Arthur says without looking up from his papers. “I like the sound of the rain, especially thunderstorms.”

Merlin turns and admires Arthur’s chest. They just had sex earlier and Arthur is seated in his leather chair wearing a white buttoned down shirt and nothing else. It’s completely unbuttoned and Merlin thinks Arthur looks incredibly sexy.

Merlin leans forward. “I didn’t think that would be something you’d like. I would have thought you would have thought thunderstorms to be too messy and loud.”

As he places his pen down, a smile crosses Arthur’s face that seems a bit wistful and sad. “That’s funny because that is actually how I used to feel about them.” Arthur swings his chair around, grabs Merlin by the waist and sits him down on his lap. “My mother loved thunderstorms. I remember this one day we were at the beach and I was having a horrid time because I can’t swim. Plus, the feeling of sand in my toes annoyed me - still does. But it was Morgana’s day to choose.” Arthur sighs. 

“The sky was practically black. It started pouring down rain ten minutes after we got there. Morgana and I hurried to collect all of our things, but my mom didn’t seem to be in any hurry. She opened this big pink umbrella that she had and gathered the two of us under it and just watched the rain, with most serene look on her face.” Arthur clears his throat. “That was our last perfect moment with her. She told us she had cancer the next day. I always think of her and that day when it rains.”

Merlin didn’t say anything, just wraps his arms around Arthur’s neck and buries his head in the crook of her Arthur’s neck. They had been dating for sixth months and this was the first time Arthur talked about his mother with Merlin. Merlin feels closer to him than ever before. Merlin looks up in surprise when Arthur starts to laugh.

“Merlin!” Arthur swipes his hand gently over Merlin’s crotch. “You’re hard.”

Merlin looks down and can feel his cheeks redden as he looks down.

“I tell you a story about my poor dead mother and you get aroused.” 

Even though Arthur’s tone is playful Merlin can’t help feeling incredibly mortified. He buries his face in his hands. “I’m so sorry. You’re just being so open with me and I love you even more and you look so sexy in that shirt...” He rambles. “God, I’m such a pervert.”

Arthur removes Merlin’s hands from his face. He looks at Merlin fondly. “You’re my little pervert.” He kisses him on the lips playfully.

The kiss quickly becomes more heated. Arthur slides his hand up Merlin’s thighs and lifts Merlin up as he quickly stands. Merlin wraps his legs around Arthur’s waist. Arthur turns them around and lowers Merlin down on his desk. He quickly rips off Merlin’s underwear. 

Merlin is still open and wet from their earlier activity. Arthur wastes no time in thrusting into Merlin. Merlin arches up and groans.

As Arthur begins to pump in and out of him, Merlin scratches his nails down Arthur’s back moaning deeply.

Arthur takes Merlin’s hands and holds them against the edge of the wooden desk with one hand. He uses his other hand to grip the edge to give him better leverage to start driving into Merlin.

“Oh fucking hell, Arthur!” Merlin cries.

“Merlin, fuck, I’m going to come!”

After one more thrust, Arthur spills his seed inside of Merlin.

Merlin can feel his warm come filling his ass and comes screaming Arthur’s name. 

They pant against each other’s mouths. Arthur carefully pulls out of Merlin as Merlin runs a lazy hand through Arthur’s sweaty hair. 

Arthur kisses the tip of Merlin’s nose and then pulls him into a sitting position. He grins at Merlin devilishly. “Perhaps I should start taking you to funerals since death seems to be such a turn on for you.”

Merlin pinches Arthur’s nipple. “Prat.”

“Pervert.”

* * *

**34.**

The waters are cold around him. They sting his eyes as he sinks in the deep shifting blues and dirty greens, the yellow tinge of faint diluted light.

At first, she’s only a vague shape--white naked skin, dark hair floating around her--pushing through the hazy colours until her lips are on his, blowing air that he doesn’t need between them.

She puts her arms around his chest, kicks with her legs, her knees knocking his thighs. She swims up until they pierce the surface of the lake, into the blinding sun, and he lets her drag him to shore, fingers tight on his skin. He loves the annoyed look she gives him, and the roll of her eyes when he grins back.

She pushes him impatiently on his back to the grassy floor and straddles his thighs, small hands spread wide on his chest. Her hair sticks to her forehead and shoulders, dripping water drops that shine into the light.

“Every single time, Arthur,” she says with an angry roll of her hips, rubbing herself against his hard cock. He grips her naked waist--marveling at how small she really is between his hands, while he knows she’s almost supernaturally strong--and lifts his hips, cock sliding on her stomach.

“I have to keep trying,” he says, already a bit breathless, a bit blinded by the angry spark in her eyes, and the ever vibrant green of Avalon.

She bends down and he flicks his tongue out at one of her nipples, before closing his lips around it and sucking. She tastes like salt, and lake water.

A moan escapes her and she arches her back. He moves his hands to her arse, pushing her against him, grinding harder against her.

“You have to--have to trust Avalon,” she says, breath warm and wet against his lips. “You have to trust me.” She drags her tongue over his lips and slides a hand between their bodies, guiding his cock inside of her, where she’s slick and warm.

He kisses her then, hard and urgent, wrapping his arms around her body, holding her still as he fucks into her. She moans and grunts into his mouths and he gathers the sounds on his tongue, rolls them in his mouth, precious and sweet.

It’s rough in the way he now knows she likes it. She pulls back a little to take a deep breath and Arthur cannot understand how they can need air right now, gasping and panting, lungs almost burning. As much as he loves the sounds she makes into his ear, over his skin, he resents it a little, too, this false mimicry, this reminder of life when theirs are over.

“Be patient,” she says, teeth over his earlobe.

“It’s not like I can die again,” he says, heat tightening in his stomach, losing his rhythm, frantic.

“Doesn’t mean it’s not going--going to--fuck--going to hurt.”

“Worth. It,” he says, punctuating each word with a deep, hard thrust until he’s coming inside of her. She crushes her mouth to his, swallowing his gasps as he shakes and trembles, fingers digging in her sides.

She pulls off of him and lies on her back, hands quick and fast between her legs. She arches her back again and Arthur loves the perfect curves it makes, creamy white against the green of the grass, hair the colour of rich earth, and he’s struck at how otherworldly she looks right in this moment.

He turns and licks the sweat and water off the underside of her left breast, biting gently at her nipple, wrenching a whimper from her lips.

Kissing down her side and stomach, he sucks the remaining lake water from her skin and then pushes three fingers inside of her where she’s dripping wet with his come and her own juices. She grabs his hair tightly with one hand, while the other works frantically on her clit.

“Come on, Freya,” he says. “Come for me.” And bites the inside of her thigh. She comes with a scream, closing her legs around his head. He flicks his tongue over her, between her fingers, while she spasms around his.

“Had I known, I would have made sure Merlin buried you in another bloody magical lake,” she says, voice cracking, but Arthur knows there’s a smile there too.

He laughs, mouth and lips tasting of her skin, her sex, the lake water, making the wait just a tiny bit sweeter.

* * *

**35.**

It was moments like this Percival enjoyed the most, when the three of them were so lost in each other they forgot about him watching and stopped trying to put on a show.

It wasn't easy; not with the way Gwaine loved to show off (and how much it really turned Merlin on), how the two of them couldn't keep their hands off each other, and the easy way with which Arthur just fell into it so seamlessly, like he wasn't intruding at all.

And, watching the way the three of them moved in tandem now, writhing on the bed, Arthur wasn't intruding. He kissed Merlin over Gwaine's shoulder, making Merlin's hips stutter, breaking the hard and fast rhythm with which he fucked Gwaine.

Gwaine raked his nails down Arthur's back, marking him in red stripes Percival wanted to lick, making Arthur break away from Merlin and push against Gwaine, hands on his forearms, holding, lining up their cocks.

Percival bit his lip to hold back a moan, to keep them in their world, his hand barely moving on his cock, holding off his orgasm until they got their fill. He never let himself come first.

Arthur and Merlin bracketed Gwaine, his long hair plastered to his neck with sweat. Merlin moved his hand from its grip on Gwaine's hip to grab Arthur instead, guiding him to a rhythm matching his own, moving seamlessly. 

In that moment, Percival loved them all so much; loved how much they loved each other, and how perfectly their bodies fit together, he loved being able to watch.

When they got to this point, moving in such unison, it wasn't long before they came. Percival finally let his hand speed up, trying to match their movements. 

"Merlin, fuck, _please_ ," Gwaine moaned, pulling Merlin into a desperate, lopsided kiss. 

"It's ok, Gwaine, we'll make you feel good. Let us." 

Merlin squeezed Arthur's hip twice and Arthur nodded at him before untangling himself from Gwaine and sliding down his body, licking, kissing, until he got to Gwaine's leaking cock; then sucking. Arthur let Merlin's thrusts push Gwaine's cock into his mouth, Percival watched it fucking past his gorgeous lips, spit and precome dribbling down Arthur's chin.

Percival had to close his eyes at that, knowing just how good Arthur's mouth felt, staving off his orgasm. It was a choked off sob that brought him back to them. He watched Gwaine shudder and shake through his orgasm, coming deep down Arthur's throat. Arthur took it all.

Gwaine calmed down with gentle hands and kisses from Merlin and Arthur, and Arthur let Merlin move them around enough to kiss him, to share Gwaine's taste between them. 

Arthur knelt up when Merlin seemed content with it and slid his hands into his hair, holding him in place as he fucked into Merlin's mouth while Merlin kept fucking into Gwaine's orgasm-limp body.

With a few more punishing thrusts that drew more moans and sobs from Gwaine, Merlin was coming, filling him up. Percival watched, knowing Merlin probably wanted to collapse down next to Gwaine, but Arthur's tight grip on his head wouldn't let him. It kept him in place as he fucked Merlin's mouth relentlessly.

Arthur looked at him then, and Percival finally let himself go. He fucked into his tight fist, while his other hand tugged on his balls over and over, making his head swim with the overstimulation. As Arthur's rhythm stuttered and a string of intelligible noises and swears fell from his lips, Percival knew he was coming and with a "fuck" of his own, he spilled all over his fingers.

Breathing heavily, Percival let his eyes rest for a second, stroking lazily, trying not to pay attention to the three on the bed, hoping he wasn't intruding. He opened them all too soon when a wet heat enveloped his limp cock, making him almost jump up.

He looked down into Arthur's grinning face and burst out laughing.

"All clean." Arthur said when he pulled off and clambered into Percival's lap, sucking Percival's sticky hand into his mouth and curling up, leaving Percival with no other choice than cuddling. It was a real chore, that. He looked over to the bed finally and couldn't help but smile at the way Gwaine and Merlin lay in a tangled mess of limbs, both already slipping away to sleep, with their faces right next to each other, noses rubbing.

"Told you, Percy, bacon lube was the best idea ever."

* * *

**36.**

The screams still echoed in his head so Arthur took another drink. Around him the crew were laughing, even drunker than Arthur’d managed, though he’d been at it for hours.

The booty had been glorious. His father had stood at the helm, his gold tooth glinting in the setting sun, and told everyone to drink their fill and dance to the sound of the gold coins below desk as they rolled with sway of the waves.

The rum turned sour in Arthur’s belly as he reached for his cup with blood stained hands. There had been children on the ship they’d attacked, more women and children than Arthur had ever seen at sea before. They were heading to the New World, maybe to a better life than what they’d left behind. Or maybe to finally join their husbands and fathers who had been sent ahead to make a home.

Arthur had led the slaughter, at his father’s orders.

He took another swig of his rum and stumbled to stand by the rail. He stared out at the black sea shimmery in the moonlight and remembered when hours before, his crew had made it run red.

Leaning over the rail, he vomited.

The only son of the dastardly Captain Pendragon, feeding the fishes with the contents of his stomach over a few innocents; he’d be walking the plank if his father knew his thoughts. It was his fate. He couldn’t hide forever. He had no taste for piracy, no choice for a different life.

He lifted his boot onto the plank. It didn’t feel so bad under his feet. He looked around, but the crew were all below decks singing songs with lewd lyrics. He stepped onto the plank fully, stumbling a bit with the roil of the sea. The wind in his hair, his arms out for balance, it was the freest he’d felt since asking permission to come aboard the _Golden Dragon_.

He took another step.

He hadn’t meant to jump. Nor had he meant to lose his balance, but a splash in the distance, and glimmer of scales and silvery pale skin had him stepping further without thinking.

The water was frigid, pin-pricks of icy cold covered his skin like falling onto broken glass. He sobered instantly, but it was too late to stop himself from taking in a lungful of water.

It was a peaceful way to die, drowning. He hadn’t realised.

The moment Arthur gave in, closed his eyes and accepted his fate, arms wrapped around him. None too gently, they squeezed the water from his lungs, an instant later lips pressed to his. It was so dark, it was as though he were blindfolded. He was certain he was being kissed. Or he’d in fact died and this was heaven, except the ache in his lungs as oxygen replaced the salt water was too painful to be anything but real.

He drifted in and out of consciousness as he was dragged along, too drunk and too exhausted to try to think of how and why he was still underwater and still alive, or what this creature was who had saved him -- kidnapped him -- or where they were going.

He was being taken from the _Golden Dragon_ and the bloody-thirsty demands of his grief-stricken father, and that was all he needed to know.

It was dawn by the time they arrived at a beach; the water was pink with the rising sun. The creature hovered over him, covering Arthur’s body with his own, keeping Arthur’s nearly naked body warm in the chill November breeze. It had silver scaled skin and midnight black hair, its blue eyes lit with amusement as Arthur stammered to find words.

The merman capture Arthur’s mouth in another kiss, rolling them until they were both covered in sand, twisting against each other. The waves tickled Arthur’s feet as they writhed together, warming themselves until Arthur was as drunk on life as he’d never experienced before.

Squirming lower, tail splashing in the outgoing tide, the merman opened Arthur’s breeches and took him into his mouth. Arthur gasped, arching into the wet sand. His hands twisted into the merman’s long dark locks; they were cold, slippery as seaweed. His mouth was beautiful, devoted to pleasing Arthur like no other he’d experienced. Arthur cried out under the attention, stunned by the intensity of his orgasm.

The creature swallowed it all and grinned. “Found you again, Arthur.”

* * *

**37.**

“MISTER Emrys – to my desk, now, please.” Professor Arthur Pendragon snapped, after the umpteenth disruption to his Classical Literature lecture. “That is enough, Merlin. You will turn out your pockets on my desk, please.” Ah yes, there was the dratted kazoo tumbling to the surface, along with a wad of used tissue, a handful of spare change, and… what the bloody hell? - a trim square of plastic with the label XXL, skipping off the desk and skittering across the classroom floor. The class tittered. Mr. Pendragon flushed and gathered himself to offer a sympathetic look to his young charge, who must be assuredly mortified by this humiliating exposure…

But the young man’s eye gleamed wickedly, and a decidedly insubordinate smirk teased his otherwise straight face. And then he had the audacity to WINK at his teacher, his lewd suggestion unmistakable. Mr. Pendragon shut his eyes tightly, willing himself to take several breaths before returning his gaze to the unruly class. What was meant to be a quelling glare turned to widened eyes and a quick in-drawn breath as the professor was met with the vision of Mr. Emrys bending down casually to retrieve his wayward condom, presenting a tightly-clad backside to the teacher in flippant insouciance. 

Lord protect him from students who mature precociously, Pendragon thought as he returned to the board to illustrate his points challenging the historical accuracy of Monmouth’s Historia Regum Britanniae.

It was as he returned to his desk after handing out the review quiz that the teen caught his eye once again. A deliberate lowering of his dark lashes drew Arthur’s attention downward to a shadow of movement beneath the boy’s desk, where, concealed by the desktop from the notice of the other students, Emrys was drawing the palm of his hand across his denims, firmly squeezing the most impressive and intimidating erection that Pendragon had had the misfortune to see. “Oh dear God,” the teacher sent a prayer for strength under his breath. He really did try to steel himself against the vision, but as the students industriously put pencil to paper, he found he could look nowhere else but the rebellious act playing out in front of him.

Emrys was apparently adept with those long, perfect fingers of his. In perfect ambidexterity, he rapidly jotted his answers onto his page with his left hand, while his right continued to massage and stroke the outline of his erection. He chewed on his pencil as he contemplated his responses, and his face remained impassive as he completed the page (and God help him, his answers had better be correct). In a most ridiculously contrived manner, his free hand strayed down between his thighs, his body arching in his seat to slide his crotch forward. He cupped his scrotum through his jeans and gave it a hard squeeze, allowing a crooked ring finger to trace along the hard denim seam, his nail scratching the fabric back and forth along his perineum. Arthur could swear that the boy’s dick was longer than his entire hand, and as thick as the mug of coffee cooling amid the stacks of papers on his desk.

He forced his eyes away from the torment, lifting his eyes only to discover young Emrys watching him intently, knowingly. Holding his gaze, the young man (the boy, dammit, barely 16, how hard it became to recall this,) allowed his impassive mask to drop, parting his lips, his half-lidded eyes and rapidly rising chest a clear indication of the silent pleasure of his release. 

As the bell chimed and students rose in the chaos of class change, Merlin Emrys zipped his hoodie with a satisfied smirk, tugging on the hem to cover any visible evidence of his antics. He stuffed his books into his pack and slung it over a shoulder, merging into the stream of jostling classmates in the migration to the front of the class.

Pausing to lay his paper on the pile, he met his teacher’s eyes with with an expression of utter guilelessness. “So, Mr. Pendragon - detention tonight, Sir?” He blinked innocently

“Detention.” Arthur repeated in bewilderment, his throat swallowing reflexively. “I don’t think…”

“3:00 o’clock, Sir?” He placed a hand flat on the wide oaken desk that stood between them, leaning in close to the teacher’s ear, his warm breath turning Arthur’s gut to jelly. “Have your desk cleared off, Sir,” he whispered. His compelling blue eyes pinned Arthur to the spot. “For when I bend you over it. Plan to stay late - I like to take my time.”

* * *

**38.**

Morgana _loves_ the feel of silk gloves. She puts them on and admires the black fabric against her own pale skin, runs them down her naked body and then turns in her tall heels to look down at the girl kneeling by her feet. 

She’s certainly a sight to behold. Morgana had chosen her at the club for her lithe body, nimble fingers, amazing smile and laugh, curly bouncy hair and adorable dance moves. She was like a cat, soft and cute but with that hint of claws that could scratch your face off. Morgana loved that. So, she had asked the girl, _Gwen_ her name was, if she liked to play as a kitten too. And indeed, she made Morgana’s night when she said she’d love to. 

Gwen was pawing at her feet, her naked body skimming against Morgana’s legs and Morgana shivered in pleasure. The thick, heavy collar on the girl’s neck was a perfect fit. She was gorgeous and Morgana resisted the urge to just jump her and rut against her like a horny teenager. She wanted more out of this night then that-- perhaps another night when she wasn’t feeling the need to dominate. 

“Kitten, I thought I told you not to touch yet?” Morgana raised an eyebrow, looking down her nose at the girl at her feet. The girl quickly backed up and sat on her haunches, staring up at Morgana with those deep brown eyes that were masked with innocence but also had a spark of mischiefness. “Such a bad kitten,” Morgana continued, reaching down to hook a finger under the collar and drag her along to her bedroom down the hallway of her flat. The kitten took the cue and quickly walked on all fours, following Morgana into the room. 

“Bad kittens get punished, yes?” Morgana chuckled slightly, helping Gwen up onto the bed. Gwen blinked and nodded, slightly unsure. Morgana leaned in and whispered in her ear. “Remember the safeword.” 

The girl smiled and looked down, and a fond feeling entered Morgana’s heart. Perhaps this one was a keeper. Regardless, Morgana got back to the task at hand. She patted the girls’ bum and grabbed her softest rope, asking Gwen to raise her hands in the air. 

Morgana climbed onto the bed and tied Gwen’s wrists together and then lead the rope up to the metal bar above the bed, tying it there as well. She looked down and saw Gwen biting her lip and squirming slightly, pressing her thighs together. 

“Oh no you don’t,” Morgana said in a low voice, hands running down Gwen’s arms, neck, breasts and belly, fingers caressing between her legs. Her other hand pulled Gwen’s legs apart. “Keep them spread for me, darling.”

Gwen shivered hard and moaned, spreading her legs and rocking against Morgana’s hand, the delicious feel of the silk gloves against her skin. Morgana quickly took off one glove and guided two fingers into Gwen’s pussy, a groan deep in her throat when she felt how wet and hot the girl was there. “So fucking gorgeous. Dripping wet for me already and we’ve barely done anything yet. You like your collar? Like being tied up, displayed on my bed?”

Gwen nodded, eyes closed and lips parted, her breathing shallow. Morgana leaned in and kissed her hard, moaning into her mouth as she fucked Gwen with her fingers, rubbing her clit in firm circles. The girl jumped and writhed against her, tugging against the rope. Morgana knew there would be marks on the girl’s body after she left Morgana’s flat. With that thought in mind, Morgana pulled away from Gwen’s mouth wetly and leaned down, mouthing at the skin just above the collar, licking and biting at it until a bruise formed. 

“Oh-- oh-- Morgana-- gods--” Gwen moaned loudly, bucking her hips against Morgana’s hand as her head fell back, allowing Morgana more room on her neck. 

“Kittens do not speak,” Morgana said softly, pulling her fingers out of Gwen smoothly. Gwen gasped, eyes opening and squirming from the sudden lack of friction on her clit. “You will keep your legs spread, waiting.”

Morgana smirked at the dismayed look on Gwen’s face as she got off the bed and wiped her hand on a towel, putting her glove back on. “Is that understood, kitten?” 

And Gwen, sexy-as-fuck, gorgeous and mischievous, simply nodded and licked her lips, spreading her legs wider and arching her back shamelessly.

* * *

**39.**

‘Baaaa,’ says Merlin.

‘That’s a _sheep_ ,’ says Arthur.

Merlin turns to glare at him; the antlers Arthur whittled the night before wobble precariously on his head. Then he tries again, only marginally closer to a proper bellow. 

It’s quite possibly the funniest thing Arthur has ever seen. 

‘Come on, then, Merlin. I expect you to attract at least half the deer you’ve ever chased off.’ 

Merlin’s neck is flushed with annoyance. His back feels hot where Arthur’s leaning over it, keeping Merlin in place, crossbow hanging half-forgotten by Arthur’s side. The next cry could come from a particularly irritated donkey; it echoes through Arthur’s own chest, and when he says, mocking, ‘I’m making this our new secret signal,’ perhaps his voice comes out a little too fond.

*

As it turns out, they don’t need a secret signal at Camlann, or ever again.

*

He slips in and out of sleep, of pain; dreams of a stag with awkward, too pale antlers on the other side of his crossbow, his fingers shaking on the trigger.

He dreams of lowering the crossbow, while the stag bellows above him.

He wakes up.

*

There’s an odd stone structure in the middle of the island that Arthur can only guess is related to magic-worship, but there’s no one here to ask except the endless mists. He didn’t even see the lake until he accidentally stepped in it, then hit an invisible wall. 

He’s trapped, panicked; searches wildly for prey, doesn’t find any.

Then he discovers you don’t get hungry when you’re dead. 

*

He feels numb; sleeps for days, years. Tries not to lose his mind. But then, he already has.

*

He thinks he hears the cry of a stag once, sharp, from across the water; sits up at the sound of _something_ in a sea of eternal nothing. 

He’s never realised how much it sounds like someone in pain. He hears it again the next time he’s awake.

*

The dreams come back, only now his arms close around the stag’s neck. It’s a little rough, and so warm. Arthur might not get hungry for food, but he aches to capture the creature just the same, his fingers digging into the fur, clinging. He’s curled around it on the ground, its chest rising under his palm, alive. The antlers feel smooth under his fingers. The stag’s rapid heartbeat echoes in his own chest as it twists around to nose eagerly at Arthur’s throat; it licks his face, and he laughs. Licks back. 

It’s a dream, after all.

Its fur is pricklysoft against his thighs, and when he buries his nose in it, it smells oddly familiar, like home. He feels a want so sharp he’s rolling his hips before he can think about it. The fur is rough against his cock, too, better than it has any right to be, and hot, hot – and then he’s kissing a mouth, incongruously. He’s pushed onto his back, and Merlin climbs him, bites Arthur’s lip; licks the tip of his nose again, clumsy, desperate. Looks at him for too long and with too much sadness, like he’s still on the other side of the lake. 

Merlin’s mouth is as hungry as Arthur’s fingers, like he can make Arthur stay if he sucks his skin hard enough, kisses it with enough reverence, _everywhere_. Merlin’s hair is pricklysoft between his fingers where Arthur holds on to it when Merlin sucks him down. He doesn’t remember pleasure; doesn’t remember it feeling this good. He curls his palm around Merlin’s neck where it’s flushed with desire when he comes, holds on. Holds on.

He wakes up with bruises on the soft insides of his thighs, where his fingers have dug in, and come all over his stomach.

*

He sleeps; counts every bruise when he wakes up, even when they’re down his back.

*

A piece of driftwood floats ashore. Arthur blinks. Finds it’s a tiny wooden boat.

The ‘Sorry’ carved into its side feels rough beneath his fingers. 

His heart can’t beat too loud, but it can hope for too much.

*

The next one says ‘Baa’.

The one after that says ‘Rise and shine!’, the carving wobbly.

*

His fingers hurt from days of working with a sharp rock when he pushes his own tiny boat out. 

It keeps drifting back.

*

On his ninety-second try, slim, unfamiliar fingers creep out of the water, curve over the rim; guide his boat through the barrier.

(‘I’m coming’, it says.)

*

A stag bellows, and he steps into the water. Swims.

* * *

**40.**

Arthur sits on his couch and listens to the rain come down outside his window. There is a small crack of thunder and he feels the shudder run down his body.

He doesn’t know when it started, but storms are like the biggest turn on for Arthur. Ever since he can remember, the minute a storm would start brewing in the west, he could feel it in his dick. He once told Merlin it was like how someone suffering from arthritis feels it in their bones, only so much more pleasurable.

Of course, that’s when Merlin had giggled and said, “Feels it in their... _bones_?”

Arthur wants to shake his head at the memory, but there is a flash of lightning outside, followed by a slow rumble of thunder and Arthur groans. His cock is throbbing in his jeans and just the thought of Merlin - as ridiculous as he can sometimes be - isn’t helping matters.

Why had his trip to Cardiff been this weekend? Why couldn’t he be there right this second, so Arthur could fuck him six ways to Sunday?

Arthur paws at his dick through his jeans and moans when he squeezes the head. He let his head tip onto the back of the couch and makes an obscene sound in the back of his throat. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He needs to fuck.

Arthur unbuttons his jeans and is about to undo the zip when he hears his cell phone vibrating against the leather beside him. His head lolls slowly over to see who it is and grins lazily when Merlin’s name is flashing at him. 

He uses his free hand to answer the call and puts it on speaker. “Mmm, hey,” he says and finishes unzipping his jeans.

Arthur shimmys them down his legs when Merlin answers, “Thunderstorm?” He sounds tinny through the line, but it’s enough. Merlin will indulge him, he knows it.

Arthur smiles down at the phone and traces his cock with his fingertip through his briefs. “You should be here,” he says in lieu of an answer.

There is a muffled shuffling sound on the other end of the phone and then Merlin says, “I wish I were. It would figure the first spring storm would come in while I’m away.”

“I miss you,” Arthur says and slips his hand into his briefs, gripping his cock and letting out a tiny groan. “I’m so fucking hard, Merlin. I need you.”

Merlin moans on the other end of the line. “God, I want nothing more than to wrap my hand around your dick right now.” And this. This is why Arthur is in love with Merlin. Because he knows exactly what to say to make Arthur’s dick twitch, exactly how to make precome dribble from his slit, exactly how to make those pleasant butterflies goes berserk in his stomach with just a couple of breathy words.

“Are you touching yourself, Arthur?” Merlin asks. “Are you thinking of my fingers stroking you and my mouth wrapping around the head? Are you thinking of how fucking wet my mouth is and how I want to devour your cock?”

Arthur makes a choked off noise and nods his head at the phone, his fingers gripping at his cock and stroking hard and fast. This isn’t going to be a marathon. He needs it too much.

“Let me hear you, Arthur.” Merlin’s voice is scratchy and raw and it’s no surprise to know that Merlin is stroking himself in Cardiff just thinking about the things they could be doing together right now. “Let me hear you when you think about sliding your huge cock in my arse. It’s so tight and only for you, Arthur. Let me hear you. Fuck me.”

Arthur’s groan is loud and he can already feel his balls tightening, his release only moments away. Merlin. The storm. All of it is too much for Arthur.

He keens when his orgasm hits him hard and his come spills out over his hand, warm and sticky. Merlin usually cleans that all up for him. With his tongue. He groans again, his dick twitching through aftershocks, but already thinking another round would be okay.

“Fuck yeah,” Merlin says on the other end and Arthur moans again when he hears the telltale sounds of Merlin coming.

*****

Twenty minutes later, they are still on the phone talking and the storm is still raging outside. Arthur misses Merlin.

* * *

**41.**

He become aware that he is standing on the shore of a lake, looking across the water to the distant smudge of land, a faint glow of firelight drawing his eye inexorably. Above him, heavy clouds flicker with lightning, low, grumbling thunder dragging after.

A notion comes to him -- _I need to cross_ \-- and grows in urgency as he looks around for a boat, raft, anything. There is a shallow wooden vessel, crumbling with age, that looks like it would fall apart at a touch. He looks down at himself, at the chainmail and shoulder plate, vambraces, greaves, the thick gambeson. He would sink like a rock.

He... he is... Arthur Pendragon, dead. A rumbling growl grows distinct from the thunder as a dark shape separates itself from night.

Some kind of outlandish cat-beast, black and sleek, great wings folded close to its body... Familiar, though he can't quite recall seeing it. It approaches him without fear, and he holds himself still as it scents him delicately, nips at his glove and pulls it off before brushing its cheek against his knee, then hand.

Oddly charmed, he settles his hand in the rough fur and rubs behind its ear and the back of its neck. The beast looks up at him with luminous eyes, considering, then closes its jaws firmly over his arm and drags him into the lake, and under.

He realises: he hadn't been breathing. But now that he is aware, his lungs are burning from the lack as the lake seizes his heavy armour and pulls him down. He clamps his mouth shut to keep water from rushing in, then small hands frame his face and a mouth seals over his, and as he opens his mouth, shocked, air rushes in, filling his lungs with air that smells of moist green earth and the lake, a bitter tang like the storm drumming distantly above them on the water surface, and a thin but fierce undercurrent of animal musk. His fear of drowning slips away, and he opens his eyes to see a pale young woman before him, smiling gently.

_Arthur Pendragon. You freed me, once,_ she says, takes hold of him.

He isn't surprised he can answer, _I don't remember._ She unbuckles the plate, pulls off pieces of his armour, his gloves, his boots. His numb fingers try to help her with the chainmail and gambeson as she pulls him apart.

Freed of his sodden garments, he is still sinking. The woman wraps her arms around him, arresting his descent, and they begin to rise through the water. He can feel her soft breasts pressed against his bared chest, and her hip between his legs, the fine dress she wears no barrier in the water. He places his hands on her shoulders, afraid to touch, and she laughs at him, her body undulating rhythmically against him in an imitation of sex as she draws them through the water with forceful motions.

_I was cursed,_ she says, and something about her feral smile and the way she moves through the water brings to mind the winged cat-beast. _You freed me,_ and he remembers the creature stalking though the streets of Camelot. 

_You were the beast?_

In answer, she kisses him again, breathing into him, and his hands slide down to her waist. She hooks a leg around his. She begins to rock against him in earnest, riding his thigh, and he kisses back, thrusting into the tight press of wet silk between their bodies. She shudders against him, but keeps rocking, clutching his hips close as he groans into her neck, until he spills his seed in her lap with a cry. _My king. Merlin saved me. You freed me. We have been waiting._

They break the surface. Arthur's strength abandons him as she drags him onto shore.

He falls heavily to the ground, and she crawls on top of him, places her hand over his heart. She strikes him once, twice, then dissolves back into the lake as he feels the silent organ jolt to life. Arthur pants desperately for true air, feeling blood roar in his ears and burn painfully through all his extremities.

He lies there, breathes, lives.

Warmth creeps up on him through the chill of the lake. A fire; he remembers looking at it from the shore in a past life. The smell of meat; sizzling. He opens his eyes and turns his head. "Merlin."

Merlin smiles. "Welcome back."

* * *

**42.**

He's always been a solemn child. Even as a baby, he was prone to colic. All Merlin knows is that some days, he carries an emptiness beneath his breastbone that he rubs his knuckles against as he goes about his chores. And others, he feels like an overripe fruit, ready to burst. On those days, he creeps down to the river at night, feet careful over the slippery pebbles, and turns his face to the sky and cries until he's exhausted.

#

One day, they're washing laundry at the river when Merlin pulls up a red kerchief he doesn't recognize. Hunith pales, whispers, "Where did you get that? I gave it to your father, years ago."

A week later, travelers find his body and bring him home, a red wound across his belly.

#

The next summer, a group of knights ride into Ealdor and ask for Merlin. They inform him his presence is required at the king's court immediately.

Hunith wraps a red kerchief around his neck, kisses his cheek, and hugs him tight. Her eyes shine with tears, but Merlin's, for once, are dry.

#

In Camelot, he learns there's a name for what he is. _Bean-sidhe_ , a harbinger of death. Uther has one of his own, an old man named Gaius who's always at his side, so the King might know when his death draws near.

Merlin is given into the service of Prince Arthur, who is golden and proud and seems too strong to ever be struck down. Merlin wants to cry, the first time he looks at him.

#

He learns from Gaius that his grief is his gift, and that it never errs.

"Everybody dies," Gaius says. "But the time and the manner aren't set in stone. Some can be avoided. You won't feel a death until it's inevitable, until they've set themselves upon a course that cannot be changed."

#

"Is serving me that intolerable?"

Merlin startles. He hurts all the time now, and it cannot be confined to the dark hours of night when no one else is around to bear witness. He'd thought he was being circumspect about dashing the tears from his eyes, but Arthur stands behind him, fists on his hips, looking stern. "No," he gasps. "Your Highness, _no._ Don't think that." He may be the worst _bean-sidhe_ the court has seen in generations, but standing at Arthur's side still feels like where he's meant to be.

#

"Am I going to die, Merlin?" Arthur asks one night as Merlin's turning down his sheets.

Merlin freezes and feels that catch in his chest. "All men die, Highness."

Arthur gives him a look. "Am I going to die _soon?"_

"No," Merlin says, without thought, without stopping to consult his grief, because the thought's intolerable. _"No_."

Arthur wipes his cheeks dry. He looks thoughtful for a moment, and then he kisses Merlin, gentle and sweet. "Don't cry," he says against Merlin's mouth. "Not for me."

#

Arthur pushes Merlin down and bites his neck as he drives into him. Merlin cries out loud enough for the whole castle to hear, but he doesn't care. These moments, when Arthur moves in him and gasps against his skin, they're the only time Merlin feels anything at all besides grief.

Arthur's teeth dig into his skin, muffling his growl as he comes. When he closes his hand around Merlin's cock and drags him over the edge, Merlin throws his head back and laughs with giddy delirium.

Afterwards, Arthur lays on his back staring up at the canopy and the corners of his mouth curve. "I'm going to have to make you do that again," he says.

Merlin thinks he means come, but when Arthur rolls over and brushes his fingers over Merlin's mouth, he realizes what Arthur means is _laugh_.

#

Eventually, Merlin comes to realize the truth. Arthur is bold and steadfast, and he cares fiercely about his country, and it's going to be the death of him. He set himself on the path that will lead to his end long before Merlin even met him. No one can turn him from his course, now that he's chosen it.

And Merlin knows he'll stand at his side until that day comes, though every morning it breaks his heart anew, because Arthur's the best man Merlin knows and someone must bear witness to that.

And because Gaius said some deaths can be avoided, and Merlin will cling to that hope until the day he dies, or Arthur does.

* * *

**43.**

Arthur lets himself into Merlin’s flat and promptly bursts out laughing.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up,” Merlin grumbles. He’s glaring at Arthur, but it’s impossible to take him seriously in the state he’s in.

“Merlin, you appear to be...a little tied up at the moment.” 

“I hate you,” Merlin says flatly. He shifts, tilting his neck to the side as if stretching out an ache.

“You don’t.” Arthur grins at him before shrugging off his coat and coming fully into the room. He contemplates the scene before him.

“Oh, trust me, I do.” 

“Do I even want to know how you ended up like this?”

Merlin sighs, tries to sit up straighter, and overbalances. He catches himself on the corner of the sofa with his left shoulder and manages to right himself again. Not bad for someone almost entirely tied up with rope.

“It’s for my act, okay? I was trying a new escape trick and...” 

“And you got stuck? God, Merlin, only you.” 

“I’m fucking sensational, shut up.” 

Arthur sits on the sofa and continues to watch Merlin struggle against his bonds. Arthur wonders what it says about him that he’s in love with this complete disaster of a human being.

“Is there any particular reason you’re naked?” he asks after a moment.

“It’s laundry day.”

Arthur outright laughs at that. 

“Look, are you going to laugh at me all night or are you going to help?” Merlin asks, tone aggrieved. 

“I don’t know, I quite like the sight of you all tied up,” Arthur smirks at him. Merlin’s eyes narrow. 

“Don’t you dare - ”

“Oh, alright, keep your knickers on,” Arthur says, moving to kneel in front of Merlin. “Especially as they’re all you’ve got left.” He stares at the knots. “You’ll have to tell me what to do here,” he adds. “I have no idea how you managed to get into this on your own.”

“I’m a stage magician, Arthur, it’s my _job_. Now, tug that one there,” Merlin gestures with his chin, “through the loop on my leg, and then at my hip. It should slide off from there.”

Arthur starts to obey, but there’s something hypnotic about the press of the rope against Merlin’s smooth skin, and Arthur can’t help but trail his fingers up Merlin’s thighs and along his sides, and when he brushes his nipple, Merlin shivers.

“Just - please,” he says tightly. 

Arthur grasps the rope and pulls it as gently as he can, starting when Merlin hisses, the rope pulling taut.

“Not that way, you _idiot_ ,” he groans. It’s not a holy-shit-that-hurt kind of groan though. It’s a groan Arthur’s grown well acquainted with over the last few months. He experimentally tugs the rope again and Merlin whimpers, and when he meets Arthur’s eyes, his own are dark.

Arthur stares, fascinated, at the red rope burn starting to spread across Merlin’s thigh where he’d pulled too tight. 

“You like this,” he says slowly, brushing his thumb along the red mark. 

“Arthur, please - ”

“What do you want?”

“Get me out of these, please, you can tie me up later if you want just, it’s been three hours, I need to - ”

Arthur’s brain catches on _tie me up later_ , but he obeys quickly. He can’t help the way the ropes slip across Merlin’s skin as he unknots them, or ignore the way Merlin bites his lips every time they do.

It seems to take an age, Merlin twitching and gasping every time Arthur touches him, clearly getting more and more turned on. This is definitely not how Arthur expected the evening to go.

He leans forward to kiss Merlin just as he slides the last knot free and Merlin collapses against him, whimpering, although whether from the pain or the pleasure Arthur isn’t sure. His hand finds Merlin’s cock and it only takes a few strokes to bring him off, Merlin’s face pressed into his neck as he comes.

“You’re the worst magician ever,” Arthur whispers, unable to stop the swell of affection as Merlin sighs against him.

“You’re the best,” Merlin mumbles nonsensically. He’s going to be asleep in five minutes, because he is utterly useless, so Arthur sighs, and, ignoring his own erection, half-carries Merlin to bed and tucks himself in behind him. 

“T’m’rr’w,” Merlin slurs, reaching back to pat Arthur’s hip. “Gonna rock your world.” 

“Go to sleep, Merlin.”

He’s answered with a snore.

* * *

**44.**

Arthur had a bit of a rep. Mildly put.

"What's wrong with him?" a girl asked at the party, leaning a bit too close to Elyan. She was close enough he could get some if he wanted, probably. She nodded at Arthur though, had her panties in her hand while Arthur frowned at his beer. Elyan shrugged. Fucked if he knew. She left.

"You might want to tone it down," Elyan said to Arthur later, when it was the two of them sitting in their kitchen in the halls. They were passing the time until the sun came up and they could have a fry-up and call it breakfast. The rest of their mates were passed out in Elyan's room. Arthur's was off-limits.

"I've no idea what you mean." Arthur stretched, smiled, played innocent. The light came in awkward and made him look twenty years older, bags under his eyes and lines around his mouth and all.

"They all think you're a perv. A freak."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Arthur shrugged. "It's art."

"Hardly."

The photos were on Arthur's walls: his cock in someone's pussy. girls peeing, boys taking a shit, then some things a little more out there with needles and wax and body parts that should never be that colour.

"I've no clue how you talk them into it," Elyan said. He knew though, before he'd even finished the sentence, before Arthur had looked up and smiled and said something about wanting to know everything about someone.Before Arthur had leaned in closer, hand on Elyan's cock, and talked about needing to see every last secret and how no one could hide anything like that, when they were open on his cock for him, how he saw everything.

He'd been off his rocker since Merlin fucked off, but he knew how to use his hands, and he knew to say the right words. A few minutes later the plan for the fry-up was pushed off the agenda, and Elyan was in Arthur's room with Percival and Gwaine and the lot of them just a wall away.

The walls were filled with polaroids. None of them were of Merlin. None of them had faces.

"Let me see," Arthur said, sounding equally five and thirty, naive and serial killer, and both curdled anticipation and nerves into uncomfortable arousal in Elyan's guts. Arthur directed him to undress, and Elyan did, until he stood naked, cock soft, hardening a little the longer Arthur stared at it, and unsure of what to do with his hands. 

They never talked about this when sober, and didn't talk much now when Arthur directed Elyan into the bathroom, as he sat on the toilet, jeans around his ankles and pulled Elyan onto his cock. He took photos as Elyan kissed at his dick, as he went down on it, easy. They'd done this before. Some photos were of Elyan, and he was sure some were of Percival and Gwaine and Leon, too. He'd never looked too closely.

"They don't usually like this," Arthur said. He pulled Elyan's chin up, looked into his eyes. "It freaks them out." He told Elyan to keep his eyes open as he sucked him down, directed Elyan's fingers to play with his arse, his lips to mouth at his balls. "What if I took a shit now?" Arthur said as Elyan fucked fingers into him and had his cock deep enough down Elyan's throat it made him cough and his eyes tear up.

Elyan pulled off and sat bare-arsed on the tiles across from Arthur, his own cock still soft, Arthur's hard and slick with Elyan's spit. He wouldn't have, not with him. Probably,

"I can't say I'm surprised they don't like it," Elyan said.

Arthur snapped another photo, slid the polaroid to Elyan across the tiles.

"Did Merlin like it?" Elyan ignored the photo inches from his toes.

Arthur's head snapped up. "It's not about him." He cocked his head though when Elyan pushed to his feet, stopped Elyan with his lips when Elyan wanted to push past him out of the room. Arthur sucked him in, rolled his limp dick over his tongue, lewd sounds and all, as he wriggled his tongue into the foreskin and teased.Then Arthur sat back on the toilet, legs still spread, camera in his hands..

"He had photos of me," Arthur said. "He knew everything about me, and I knew nothing. Never making that mistake again." 

As if that was explanation enough.

* * *

**45.**

Merlin rubbed his cock through the rough denim of his jeans. He was hard already and knew it was evident when he spread his legs. He wasn’t going be shy about this, not today. With a smirk he readjusted himself, his cock tenting the fabric on his thigh. Arthur made a small sound as Merlin continued rubbing himself and Merlin smirked up at him again, shifting and sitting more comfortably on the sofa. He traced the outline of his cock with his fingers, letting Arthur appreciate what he had to offer. He was big, he knew that, and now Arthur knew it as well. Let him drool over his cock if he was so inclined on not participating. Merlin wasn’t going to make it easy for him.

He stroked firmly with his hand, letting his fingers slow down over the head of his cock and exhaling softly as they did so. He was about to get his jeans undone and get down to business when Arthur spoke.

“Merlin,” he said softly. As Merlin looked at him, he bit his lip, either wondering about what to say next or regretting that he ever opened his mouth. Making up his mind, he lifted his chin up. “Let me.”

Merlin raised his eyebrows and let his hands fall to his sides in a silent invitation. Arthur got his hands out of his pockets and moved the small table a few inches away from the sofa so he could kneel before Merlin. At that, Merlin’s breath caught for a second, because Arthur Fucking Pendragon was actually on his knees before him, but he composed himself quickly, allowing himself only a small groan. Arthur didn’t look up to meet his eyes. His gaze was fixed on Merlin’s cock as he traced it with his fingers lightly – a teasing, fleeting touch. He mimicked Merlin’s firmer movements for a second before leaning in and feeling it with his lips, gently grazing his teeth along the denim. Merlin made a choked sound and lifted his hips lightly, only to receive a glare from Arthur as he pinned them back down. 

Arthur’s hands then slid to the hem of Merlin’s jeans and he undid a button, then another one. Soon he was pulling them down and Merlin was allowed to lift his bum for a second in order to get rid of them. 

Arthur only pushed them down to his knees before mouthing at Merlin’s cock through his pants, groaning softly as he did so. Merlin bit his lips so words wouldn’t slip past them and ran his fingers though Arthur’s hair, encouraging him silently. With his other hand he pushed the elastic band of his underwear down, getting his cock out. Arthur licked his lips.

“Have you ever— oh, you have,” Merlin finished breathily as Arthur took him in his mouth without hesitation, licking around the shaft as he swallowed more and more of it. “Fuck, you’re good at this,” he whispered. Arthur groaned around him. “What was that?” Merlin chuckled and Arthur moved away..

“Shut up,” Arthur said before licking Merlin’s cock from base to tip, doing something with his tongue that left Merlin whining.

“Nah, don’t think so,” he said. “I like talking. I bet you like it, too.” Arthur grunted wordlessly and swallowed as much of Merlin as he could. “Yeah, fuck,” Merlin whimpered, trying to stay still and not choke Arthur. “So good. Done this a lot, have you? Been stretching your pretty lips around your friends for a while,” he went on. Arthur’s hand was moving in front of his own trousers, and he kept moaning softly around Merlin as he bobbed his head up and down. He did like it. Merlin bit his lip. “I bet you look so pretty with come all over that face.” Arthur let out a moan that sounded suspiciously like “Mm-hmm” and Merlin swore under his breath, pushing Arthur off himself with a hand in his hair and stroking his cock quickly. Arthur leaned in to lick the tip lightly, his eyes closing in the anticipation. Merlin groaned as he felt himself stumbling towards the edge and grunted Arthur’s name as he spilled all over him, come catching on his left cheekbone and his full lips and sliding down to his neck. With a moan Arthur continued cleaning Merlin’s dick from the come, his orgasm making him stutter right when Merlin was starting to feel a tad too sensitive for it to be enjoyable anymore.

* * *

**46.**

An oddity for his age, Merlin loved the school library. He loved the musty smell of old books and the hum of the ancient computers the school was too cheap to replace. He loved being able to sit in peace and revise away from the rabble of his peers. But he was finding it difficult to enjoy the library this particular afternoon because today he wasn't alone. Today the unfortunately gorgeous Arthur Pendragon, captain of the football team and self-appointed king of the school had decided to join him.

" _It's a Friday for fuck's sake, don't you have anything better to do?_ " he thought viciously at Arthur. Until today, he hadn't even been sure Arthur could read. But now, as he looked across the floor to where Arthur was sitting (and yes, he had chosen to sit facing Merlin to be even more of a prat) he saw him looking at his textbook like it was the most fascinating thing in the world and diligently taking notes.

Merlin gave an exaggerated sigh and tapped his pencil against the desk loudly, hoping it would be irritating enough to make Arthur leave. Arthur looked up and smirked at him. He pressed one finger over his lips and pointed at the 'SILENCE' sign, waggling his eyebrows pointedly before turning back to his book. Merlin gave up and attempted to go back to his own revising. This plan worked for all of two minutes before a rustling sound broke Merlin's concentration. Frustrated, he looked around for the source and promptly lost all other brain function.

Arthur Pendragon - gorgeous, annoying, out-of-his-league Arthur Pendragon - was stroking himself in the middle of the library. Merlin's jaw dropped as he watched the slide of Arthur's thumb and the walk of his fingers against his swiftly hardening cock. His eyes were still focused on the book in front of him but he clearly wasn't paying much attention to it as a barely audible moan escaped his lips. Without warning, he started stroking faster, sagging into the chair and letting his head fall back. His breath came out in short pants as he rubbed harder, grinding the heel of his palm down, desperately seeking more friction.

Merlin watched in rapture until he became painfully aware of his own cock pushing against the front of his jeans. " _This is stupid, we're going to get caught, Arthur is going to remember where he is and punch me, fuck, this is the dumbest thing I've ever done_ ," raced through his mind as he reached down and rubbed the front of his bulge tentatively. He closed his eyes and tried to relax into the feeling before an overwhelming wave of panic surged over him and he jerked his hand away. Anxiously, he whipped his head around looking for an escape route but an undisguised groan made him look back at Arthur. Arthur, who now had his cock out of his trousers and was looking like the wettest of Merlin's wet dreams, eyes blissed out and lips red from biting. The tip of his tongue licked over his plump bottom lip and Merlin's last coherent thought was " _fuck it_ " before he shoved his hand down his own pants and started pumping furiously.

The combination of watching Arthur fuck into his hand and knowing anyone could walk in on them at any time edged Merlin towards completion faster that watching any porno ever had. Arthur was coming undone, chest rising and falling rapidly, hair curling at the base of his neck from sweat. Merlin took in the sight greedily, watching Arthur's thumb ring glint in the florescent lighting as Arthur worked it swiftly along his length. His moaning changed to a needy whine and Arthur suddenly tipped his head forward and looked straight into Merlin's eyes. Merlin panicked momentarily but watched as Arthur sped his strokes up, adding a twist at the head, and came in long spurts, all the while keeping his eyes locked on Merlin's. 

Startled, Merlin came with a gasp, coating his hand and pants. With his clean hand, he rummaged around in his book bag for something, _anything_ to clean himself up with when a pack of tissues landed on his table. He looked up and saw Arthur smirking at him over his shoulder as he sauntered out of the library. His face rapidly turning red, Merlin reached for the tissues and found a sticky note attached to the top. _07637-887-457 - text me tonight for round two_.

* * *

**47.**

The thunder rumbles overhead, wind rustling the leaves of the trees above her head. The sky is dark with the promise of rain and she can scent it in the air around her as she walks. Her long black hair hangs over her shoulder as she strolls--naked, expectant--through the forest. She knows the smell of the omegas, has it branded into her very being, but she does not stop walking.

Her steps take her to a clearing in the forest. A river runs to the right, framed by the trees that sway in the wind. There is the alpha in her veins and the power sings through her blood as the rain starts to fall. Lighting flashes in the sky, and were she younger, had she less power, she would howl her desire to the clouds. There is a crack of thunder, the soft pitter patter of rain hitting the ground. The wind changes direction and she smells him.

She finds the black haired boy, Mordred, wet and panting by the edge of the clearing. He smells like she wants him too, easy, pliant, so very willing. 

His eyes are wide as she lengthens her strides, the grass catching the backs of her ankles. 

"Morgana," he whispers as she nears.

He is already on his back when she reaches him, her feet planted on either side of him. He smells like power, and she is hungry for him, for what is about to happen. His power is hers and his hard cock is hers, to sate her and fill her. 

"Don't speak," she warns, the alpha growling in her voice.

Mordred is quiet, his arms by his side, eyes downcast. Morgana likes him this way, obedient, smelling sweet. She likes them young, likes them with hard cocks that rub and stretch her. She sits on his cock, her knees by his hips, her hands on his chest.

He does not touch her, because she is his queen, but more than that, she is his alpha. 

"Good boy," Morgana tells him.

Mordred closes his eyes, his black lashes stark against his white skin. The rain falls on them, slicking their bodies together. It's so very easy for Morgana to slide up his leg, rubbing herself against his knee. He will smell like her for days when she is done with him. Her beautiful boy. She will own him.

There are howls in the distance, her pack echoing her desire. Their voices ride up her spine, make her sink down on Mordred's hard cock. She throws her head back as she rides him, his cock wet and leaking inside her. She takes him fast, her hips working to find a pace she likes. She uses him until she comes, her nails digging into his chest until he screams.

She will mark him, touch every bit of skin she can find until all he knows is her fingernails on his chest. And he will fill her to the brim until she overflows, until his seed runs down her legs. He will give her that and more, but not today.

The clouds thunder over their heads as she comes a second time on Mordred's cock, her eyes flashing gold, then red. He is panting beneath her, his eyes wide with desire, his cock still hard in her. She smiles at him, her grin feral at his whimper when she stands.

She leaves the clearing with Mordred's pleads echoing behind her. She knows he will not come until she tells him he can, and if he's good. If she comes back and he is where she left him, she will let him.

* * *

**48.**

White lightning erupted around them, bright flashes illuminating the alabaster skin writing above him, pressing down- harder, faster, _more_. Thunder rolled through their flat, guiding the roll of Merlin’s hips grinding against him. His own gasps and cries swallowed by the sounds of a raging sky. The Heavens in thunderous turmoil, a war of light and sound, winners never crowned, battles aching to be fought again, all in search of the fleeting ecstasy at the heart of the storm. The flash of power as it thrummed through their bodies; the air shaking around them sharing the moment that it helped create.

That moment seemed so far away, elusive, yet they strove to reach it- the eye of the storm. Their bodies fit together perfectly- a rumble of thunder, loud and strong, and a crash of lightning powerful in its silence; two forces of nature inseparable from one another. It was always like this with them, wild like thunder and lightning, passionate like the match to a flame, tender like the rolling waves against the sand.

Electrical currents teased his body as Merlin’s deft fingers danced over his flesh, making him feel a live and awed. Merlin did this to him, took him to this place, this exquisite other world where they _were_ everything. And just like every match that was struck, every wave to reach its apex, every clap of thunder pierced by jagged shafts of lightning, they would reach their pinnacle together.

Arthur could feel it, a rumbling tingling at his toes, crawling through his fingers where he grasped Merlin’s hips. Thunder and lightning- it was getting close now. He pushed up, thrusting deeper and deeper striving for the eye of this storm raging between them. Pounding. Thrumming. Skin sweat-slick against skin, muscles vibrating with the intensity of a well strung violin, waiting, wanting to shake apart with the power.

Above him, Merlin flowed with the thunder, his body undulating to its chaotic rhythm, meeting every thrust, every cant of hips. Roaring with the crash of sound as Arthur nudged and pressed into that spot that sent tendrils of lightning shooting deliciously through Merlin’s body.

Thunder and lightning growing closer and closer to singularity, light and sound overlapping, not yet one, but a continuous litany of cries and pulses, one leading inexorably to the other, mingling with twin cries of pleasure; only silenced when sensuous, kiss-swollen lips met, devouring lovers’ sounds as surely and swiftly as they devoured each other. Hunger of the flesh, hunger of the spirit; demanding more, rushing towards a crescendo to match any the renting skies above could offer.

Merlin’s head flew back, ecstasy etched on his face and Arthur’s name a howl pouring from his lips. Lightning and thunder crashed as one. Arthur’s strong, loving arms closed around Merlin’s body as he fell forward, boneless and spent, spasming around Arthur’s cock, his body eagerly accepting the offering he gave him. The heart of the storm. The strike of the match. The crash of the wave.

Ozone lingered in the air, the night awash with light and sound as the storm still raged; its epicentre drifting further and further away. But in this room, in this bed only the light of their eyes and the sound of their sweet words pierce the night.

* * *

**49.**

Gwen rides out alone, leaves her clothes draped over low-hanging branches and steps into the lake.

She treads water, her arms search beneath the surface.

“Where are you?”

There is only need to ask and she never has to wait long. Gwen feels the water surrounding her change and slide around her body. It supports her hips, pushes up against her shoulders so she’s able to float comfortably. Her head leans back, her hair flows out in the water. Her fingers brush against something which curls around her touch.

As her eyes drift shut, Gwen parts her legs.

The water ripples against her. Gently runs up her thighs, laps at her folds. It beats slowly, like a heartbeat, steady and docile.

“Come on,” she whispers. “I won’t break.”

The push wraps around her hips. A watery tendril or a tongue or _something_ goes up inside her. Gwen’s back arches as her chest swells with a gasp. It moves steadily, swishes, strokes, like the steadily rhythm of the tide against the shore. It drags slowly up, over her clit and Gwen drives her hips towards it.

Suddenly Gwen’s fingers settle on something .The hold against her body vanishes when she submerges herself.

The lake’s waters are murky and it stings to hold her eyes open against it. But Gwen can see him. 

Lancelot is in the water. It moves through him, flows to his movements but it’s _him_. 

Gwen reaches out and her fingers settle on his shoulder.

She pulls herself against Lancelot, the water curls around her again. It holds her tenderly and she feels Lancelot through all of it. And it’s the curve of his neck beneath her fingers, his chest which her breasts press against and his hip she slides her leg around.

It’s Lancelot she kisses and she almost cries out when he pushes up inside her. It’s still steady, still strong, still so gentle. But now it’s Lancelot more than it’s the lake. She clings to him, keeps their lips together, fights against the urge to cry out. Lancelot follows the rhythm she sets with the roll of her hips, flows along to her movements. 

One moment she feels her lungs begin to burn and then the afternoon sun warms her shoulders as Lancelot bursts through the lake’s surface and onto the land. With her back on the ground, Gwen tightens her hold and she _feels_ him. Winding her fingers through his hair, Gwen kisses him again and it makes her heart race. She pushes her hips up and wraps her legs around him. 

_“More!”_

Lancelot pushing against her meets the buck of her hips and Gwen arches her back, lets the sensation spike up her body and leave her mouth in a soft cry. Her fingers scrape down his back, feels his fluid movements against her, with her, deeper and deeper inside her.

One of Lancelot’s hands keeps a firm grasp to one of her hips, pulls her against him as he thrusts forward. His body arches into her touch, fingers thread through her hair, he turns his head to meet her when she goes to kiss him. 

Her name pours from Lancelot’s mouth and Gwen pulls him down, presses his lips to her throat, feels them move against her skin, wants his whispers of how he loves her to burn against her flesh.

She’s close, lets Lancelot guide her movement. Her legs tighten around him, takes him all the way inside her.

As she drags her fingers down his back, he shudders and then ripples beneath her touch. The sensation trembles through him and Gwen feels it. Everything tightens and shivers and Gwen’s back arches. Her eyes close and she cries out as she feels that coiling heat release and crash through her body.

What pulls her back is Lancelot jolting sharply against her. A chill clutches Gwen when she realises that his body now convulses in pain. He growls against her neck, his fists clench in the dirt.

“Gwen, I can’t. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she says. But he’s already gone, retreated back into the water he’s bound to. 

Gwen sits up, feels the sun warm on her back. Her naked state isn’t something she worries about. Even if Lancelot can’t leave the lake, he’ll make sure she remains safe beside it.

Dipping one hand into the water she feels a press against her palm.

“I’ll get you back,” she promises.

* * *

**50.**

"Your sister's hot," Merlin said, glancing at Arthur sideways, his tongue flicking out to wet his lips after Morgana peeled out of the driveway in her red convertible. They were both in only swimming trunks and sitting on the edge of the pool, feet dangling in the water.

Arthur scowled, and without warning tackled him into the water, pushing his head down deep as Merlin fought against him. He came up with choking, gasping breaths, for just a few scant seconds before Arthur pushed him down again, hands firm on his shoulders as Merlin struggled against him, flailing. 

Eyes screwed shut, he couldn't _breathe_ , and suddenly Arthur's lips were on his, his body pressing against Merlin's, and he stopped struggling. Merlin still couldn't breathe, but Arthur's lips were insistent against his, his hips pressing forwards into Merlin's, and a small bit of air slipped into Merlin's mouth, a little water too.

Merlin found his feet under him and broke the kiss, kicking to the surface, gasping and spitting in the fresh air.

"Bastard," was all he could say, before Arthur was on him again, shoving him against the rough of the pool wall and kissing him, lips wet and tongue delving deep into Merlin's mouth, licking him open, lewd and slutty. 

Arthur's thumbs pressed against Merlin's hipbones, pinning him against the side as he gasped away from the kiss, catching his breath. Arthur kissed him on the jaw instead, and then licked the at the drops of water beading on his neck.

Shaky, Merlin reached behind him, trying to hoist himself out of the pool. Arthur helped, but stopped him when he was sitting on the edge, leaning forward to rub his face against Merlin's growing erection through the wet cling of his swimming trunks. 

"You taste like chlorine," Arthur mumbled and Merlin rolled his eyes, threading his fingers through Arthur's wet hair and tugging gently. Arthur ran his lips over the head of Merlin's cock through his trunks and sucked, making Merlin moan and clutch at Arthur's shoulders with his thighs.

"Yeah," Arthur pulled away to say shakily. "Back up will you."

Merlin pulled away out of the water completely, scooting backward to the soft grass in the shade of the privacy hedges, ignoring the little scratches that the concrete left on his skin.

Arthur pulled himself out of the pool by his arms before crawling over Merlin to press their hips together. Merlin rolled his hips up as Arthur settled against him, making them both moan as their cocks rubbed together.

Arthur kissed him again, and Merlin grappled at his hips and ass, pulling their cocks together as he rolled his hips upwards. Arthur smirked against him before interlocking their legs to hump down on Merlin's thigh. The firm muscle on top of his cock was delicious as Merlin writhed upwards, whimpering as Arthur bit him on the neck.

"Tease," Merlin gasped out, and dug his fingernails into Arthur's bare sides as Arthur sucked hard.

Arthur pulled away, a challenge glinting in his eyes, leaning down to yank down Merlin's shorts so his cock could pop free, flushed red and fully hard.

Arthur's hand was still wet from the pool as he wrapped it around Merlin's cock for two long pulls, before wrapping his lips around the head and suckling, making Merlin whine and pant beneath him with little flicks of his tongue. 

"Arthur," Merlin groaned, hips arching up before Arthur pinned them with an arm and took him deeper, tongue swirling patterns on the underside, his mouth a wet, hot suck of pure ecstasy to his dick. 

Merlin cried out when he felt Arthur run his fingers over his drawn-up-tight balls, squeezing gently, and then Merlin tapped frantically on his shoulder, hips twitching upwards. Arthur met his eyes and deliberately sank deeper on his dick as Merlin's eyes fluttered closed, his orgasm shuddering silently through him, making his toes curl, legs drawing up. 

Arthur licked at him softly as he came down until Merlin pushed him away, hissing. He opened his eyes to see Arthur on his side with his hand down his shorts, stroking himself off in fast pulls.

Merlin lazily crawled forward, ignoring the shorts around his knees, to push Arthur's trunks down further. He leaned in to lay a kiss to the base of Arthur's dick, just under the movement of Arthur's hand, dragging his tongue softly over Arthur's balls as Arthur cried out and came all over his stomach with a jerk.

* * *

**51.**

The sight of Merlin's pale arse, pink, rosy, and clenched in anticipation of the next blow, never failed to leave Arthur rock hard and wanting. A masochist to the core, Merlin screamed and writhed and moaned so filthily with each strike that Arthur was always torn. He could lay into his Merlin again just to watch him grunt and shudder, or he could abandon the cane altogether in favor of fucking Merlin over whatever piece of furniture his lover was currently thrown over. It was always a struggle his cock and the sadist in him, and Arthur loved that neither of them ever came out the loser no matter who won. 

"What number is that, Merlin?"

_'Seven...'_

"And how many do we have left?"

_'Three...'_

Arthur doesn't hold back his grin at the breathless quivering tone of Merlin's voice. It's a stark contrast to the subtle shift in his stance as his lover spreads his legs a little wider, a reminder to Arthur of just how much Merlin loves this. 

Not just the pain, but _this_. His body stripped and draped over Arthur's knees. No implements in sight, just Arthur's bare hand flashing against his skin. Merlin is always extra obedient when he knows it may result in a turn across Arthur's lap. 

Arthur doesn't have to look at his lover's face to know exactly how wrecked he looks. He's seen Merlin like this often enough, panting and flushed, his fringe clinging wetly to the tracks that tears have left behind. He knows the fire singing through Merlin's veins because its complement is currently racing through his own and Arthur feels high in a way that no drug can ever replicate. Every whimper is a shot of adrenalin straight to his system and every open scream sings through him like electricity, satisfaction and temptation all at once, and he's mad with it. 

"That's my good boy."

Arthur's voice has lost its stern tone and he croons the words, practically cooing, and there's no discrepancy there because they're a more effective tool than any paddle or strap. Merlin whimpers softly and all the tension melts from his body, leaving him pliant and utterly receptive to whatever Arthur is about to dish out. 

Arthur can't see Merlin's cock where it's pressed uncomfortably against the pillow that Arthur used to prop up his hips but he knows that Merlin is still hard. He hasn't been given permission to come and he'll stay hard like that as long as Arthur demands. 

Arthur brings his hand down on Merlin's arse again, hissing at the recoil as his palm lights up with pain but smiling all the same as Merlin grunts and rocks his hips gently. 

"Don't you dare come."

As he says it, he brings his hand down again and Merlin cries out, trembling before going still against him. Arthur doesn't say anything. He just waits. 

And there it is. Tiny mewling cries that slowly become outright sobs. 

_'I'm sorry...'_

When Arthur says nothing, Merlin repeats himself over and over, the words quickly running together and slurring as he cries harder and harder. 

"You aren't sorry yet. But you will be."

Merlin doesn't stop crying but his legs spread a little wider and Arthur grins.

* * *

**52.**

Arthur had been deer stalking for most of the morning before he finally set his sights on his prey, the young buck he’d been tracking in his riffles path. So long as he remained fairly still and quiet, each action precise in its movement, Arthur reckoned the kill was his.

Or at least it was until an attractive _fool_ , with midnight hair and full lips, had burst into the clearing, startling both the deer and Arthur in turn.

“What the hell are you doing?” the stranger asked, glaring at Arthur with a clear look of outrage as Arthurs prize vanished into the wilderness. “You could have shot that poor deer!”

“Well…” started Arthur before pausing to give the incompetent idiot enough time to supply his name.

“Merlin.”

With a name like Merlin the man was probably a hippy. 

“Well _Mer_ lin, I think that was rather the _point_ ,” Arthur snorted, sidling into Merlins personal space whilst glaring in an intimidating manner, “Also you’re trespassing. Please leave.”

“No, this is the Forest of Essetir. I was just at a protest so I _know_ this is Essetir,” the idiot insisted, eyes bright in protest.

Yep, this ‘Merlin’ was definitely a hippie. 

“I’m Arthur Pendragon,” Arthur announced with a certain amount of pomp, “And I can tell you that you’re on my private estate. The forest of Essetir ended half a mile back. Now go away.”

Arthur turned away from the idiots fine features, determined to ensure the day wasn’t a complete loss by shooting at least some fowl on the way back to the manor, when he felt Merlin grab his wrist and heard a lock click into place.

“What the hell are you doing?!” Arthur bellowed in disbelief, too late to stop Merlin from tethering them together via handcuff, but not too late to notice Merlin palming the key to his freedom in his hand.

“Saving more innocent creatures from the likes of you!” Merlin shouted, deflecting Arthur’s free arm from retrieving the key with his body before panicking and shoving it into his underwear.

Arthur shot a lecherous grin in Merlins direction. “Oh Merlin, you really don’t think that will stop me, do you?”

A look of alarm crossed Merlins features. “If you so much as lay a finger on me below the waist, I’ll scream rape!”

“Really Merlin, You’re going to cheapen a serious term like rape on whatever ridiculous circus act you’ve turned this into?” Arthur mocked, “For shame!” 

“Shut up! You are not the moral superior in this situation. You were about to shoot Bambi.”

“Oh, get over it! Are you aware that Albion is drastically over populated with wild deer?” Arthur asked; the timber of his voice deep and low as if it were stalking Merlin for its prey. Merlin skittered, his gaze locked upon Arthur's, as he unconsciously retreated like a bird taking flight. Each step he took to escape Arthur failing in its infancy as Arthur followed, attached to his quarry by both chain and desire.

Merlin kept withdrawing rearward until they came to a sudden stop, his back arched up against an ancient elm tree, unchained hand resting against Arthur’s chest as if unsure whether to push him away or grip him closer. 

Arthur leant forward to steal a kiss, Merlin melting into his arms.

“No, no, no, no, no,” Merlin muttered breaking his mouth free from Arthur’s own and resting his head against Arthur's shoulder. “This is just a ploy to get the key”.

“Maybe it is and maybe it isn’t,” Arthur said pragmatically, “The question you have to ask yourself right now is: Do you really care?”

And Merlin really, really didn’t.

He wrapped his free around Arthur’s neck, tangling fingers into golden locks, as he pulled Arthur forward into a scorching kiss, the heat of a supernova burning between them, bodies craving release.

Merlin moaned into the kiss as Arthur struggled with the zip of their jeans, freeing their erections into the open air as they rubbed against each other in an attempt to gain friction.

Merlin brought their joined hands to his mouth, nipping at Arthur’s fingertips before licking across his palm in one sensual movement. 

Arthur groaned at the sight as they rutted together harder, precum spreading between; one of his hands curled tightly against Merlin’s hip as he yanked his bound hand free of Merlin’s ministrations to wrap around their dicks and seek absolute completion. 

***

“Great,” Arthur grouched as he peppered kisses along Merlin's bare collar bone, “The best wank of my life and it’s with a _hippy_ named _Mer_ lin in the middle of a bloody _forest_.”

“Mmmhhhmm,” Merlin agreed distractedly scanning their surroundings as if he expected a deer to appear from behind some shrubbery and shout boo.

“I’m probably going to smell like patchouli for a week—“

“Hey Arthur,” Merlin broke in, interrupting bemused ramblings. Arthur paused in his worship of Merlin's collar bones to glance up at him in acknowledgement. “Do you know what happened to the key?”


	7. Group C (no warnings)

**53.**

This, Arthur thinks, was one of Grandaunt Owena’s worst birthday gift ideas. A night at _The Dancing Maid’s_ , paid in advance and good for half a year, presented to him _in front of his father_. The very thought makes him curdle in embarrassment.

He’d been putting it off for the longest time, waiting until the last week that the payment was good for; waste not, want not, his late nurse had always told him, bless her soul. 

That’s the only reason why he’s here (of course), in front of this godforsaken pleasure house with its gaudy signboard (which boldly proclaims it’s “the best pleasure house in all of Albion” in an untidy hand). 

“Welcome, Pr—” 

Arthur shushes the proprietress, impatient, and furtively looks around. No one seems to have noticed, to his relief. 

There’s a girl at the end of the line who reminds him too much of Morgana, and he blanches, discomfited. He refuses them and asks if there is anybody else. The proprietress eyes him carefully, then nods. 

He ends up in a medium-sized room at the back and a man—boy, really—who looks about as servile as an rebel leader. 

***

“Good day,” Arthur says stiffly.

The boy bursts into a peal of giggles.

“Good day,” he says. “If we could get to the fucking, sir, it would be.”

Arthur bristles but stands at the foot of the bed, discomfited. He asks for a name because it seems rude not to. It’s obviously a fake name— _Merlin_. Who names their child after a bird?

Merlin huffs, pulling him to the bed.

“Your first time?” he asks, undoing the laces of his breeches, and slips his tunic off easily. He’s already stiff and red, like he’d prepared himself before Arthur came.

Arthur stares. He’s pale all over, but not delicate. Wiry. When they finally fall into the bed together, he jolts a little. Merlin is hot like a furnace.

“My first with a boy,” he confesses, shy. His first had been an early fumbling with a maid he loved the summer he was fifteen, a quiet girl named Gwen.

Merlin smiles at him, and the awkwardness of the encounter breaks. Arthur’s offered his vulnerability and Merlin’s accepted it like a gift.

Then, cockily, “Well, kiss me then.”

It startles a laugh out of him and he complies, opening his mouth over Merlin’s. His mouth is hot just like the rest of him, hot and wet. They share breaths, and their tongues curl around each other. Arthur rubs his cock on Merlin’s thigh like a dog, back and forth. It’s delicious friction, and he can feel himself getting bigger the more he rubs.

But friction is not enough and Merlin reaches for Arthur’s cock.

“Put it in me, before I force myself upon you,” he says, grinning. “I’m already wet. _Inside_.”

Arthur bats his hands away and checks; yes, he is slippery and soft inside, just like a girl. Primed for his cock. It makes his heart thud faster, eager for the fuck.

Carefully, he aligns himself and pushes forward. There’s a resounding moan from Merlin, and he gasps. He’d forgotten how good it felt to sink himself into warm flesh. There’s a pause, and he hears now, how loud their panting is in the stillness of the room.

Then Merlin grips harder on his back, urging him to move, and he does, his hips snapping in and out in sharp bursts.

“Arthur,” Merlin begs as they’re close to climax. His nails dig into Arthur’s back and slide down, and the little welts of pain that Arthur feels pushes him over. Merlin reaches between them, his fingers closing around his cock, jerking hurriedly until he comes.

He’s sex-sated and sleepy, but he makes the cursory effort to get off Merlin, wincing as he pulls out. Merlin sighs and lets his legs fall open. He looks obscene like that, with Arthur’s come oozing out from his hole, stark against the red puffiness of it. It’s tempting, and Arthur pushes a finger in, scooping out some come before licking it. Then he sniffs his finger.

“Bacon,” he whispers, confused.

Merlin looks up at him from his sprawl, cheeks flushed, then turns to glance at the cup of oil on the side table.

“Round two?” he asks hurriedly, his voice high.

Not such a terrible gift after all, Arthur decides later.

* * *

**54.**

Arthur waited on the beach as he always did. He arrived at daybreak and sat at the water’s edge. Watching and waiting. His heart thrummed as there wasn’t much longer now. 

Finally, he saw a ripple smoothing across the water. Arthur sprang to his feet, his heart singing at the sight. Merlin emerged slowly, water streaming over his lithe bare body as it rose from the sea. Arthur stepped into the shallows, and a smile blossomed on Merlin’s face when he saw Arthur waiting for him. 

364 days of waiting were worth it in a mere instant. 

“Arthur…,” Hearing Merlin’s voice and then having Merlin in his arms made Arthur whole again. Arthur gasped his name as his lips kissed the first skin he found. Merlin’s lips met his quickly, equally starved for the other’s taste. They kissed deeply and swiftly enough to make up for lost time, until all was banished but each other and the joy they shared. 

The waves peeled away from their feet as Merlin pushed them towards the dry beach. He tried to maneuver Arthur out of his clothes, but their inability to stop kissing or let go of each other made it difficult. Finally, Arthur’s state of undress matched Merlin’s and they tumbled to the sand together. 

The joy of reunion erupted into desperate lust, fueled by the drug of skin on skin. Arthur sat up so Merlin could straddle him, and he pulled Merlin close, his mouth still seeking Merlin’s neck and lips and whatever it could reach. Arthur was already hard, but the pressure of Merlin’s body grinding down into Arthur’s lap was nearly unbearable. 

Merlin gasped his name when Arthur’s fingers, then cock found his entrance. Soon they were moving together in the sand, Merlin’s hands clutching Arthur’s shoulders as Arthur’s hands helped guide him. Each push inside Merlin was like coming home again, aching emptiness finally being filled. Merlin’s lips tasted like salt water, and the dampness that clung to him soon spread to Arthur’s skin as the movements of Arthur’s hips met each rock of Merlin’s body in a perfectly matched pas de deux. When Arthur came, Merlin gasped loudly and threw his head back, like a dying man finally finding sustenance. 

Arthur folded Merlin into his arms as they laid back in the sand.

“You know I wait every year, every single day, until the day I can come see you,” Merlin murmured against his skin. “Part of me is always scared you won’t be here, that something will have changed…”

Arthur’s arms tightened. “I’m yours, always.” 

It had been true since the day they’d met. A nighttime swim had turned treacherous, until a beautiful boy had appeared from the depths and brought Arthur back to shore. Since then, Arthur could have no other lover. 

Arthur had more he wanted to say, but Merlin rose and pulled him towards the water. Merlin kissed him deeply in the shallows, imbuing his human with enough magic so Arthur could breathe below the surface. 

Underwater, their bodies entwined again. This time, Merlin held Arthur, kissing him and smoothing his hands along his face as he entered him. In the depths where Merlin belonged, Arthur clung to him, shuddering as Merlin’s hands found his cock and they climaxed together. 

“Merlin,” Bubbles raced up from Arthur’s lips. “You know I love you, that I ache every day we’re apart.” Merlin nodded in sympathy, until Arthur added, “I can’t bear it anymore.” Arthur’s hands tightened along Merlin’s skin. “I need to be with you, always.”

“You know what will happen, you know why you can’t…”

Arthur silenced him with a soft kiss. “I can’t live a world apart from you anymore. It means nothing.”

Emotions battled in Merlin’s eyes.

“Please, Merlin.” 

“You know this can never be undone.”

Arthur nodded. “I know it also means we’ll finally be together.”

Slowly, Merlin started to smile. He kissed Arthur again and whispered one more word of love before his hands grew hot with magic. He placed one over Arthur’s heart, and Arthur closed his eyes. 

His body started to weaken, but Merlin held him safe and close. Merlin stroked a hand through his hair, knowing that soon, Arthur would be his in every sense of the word. There would never be another soul like Arthur’s, and Merlin would never need another. Arthur sank deeper, and Merlin descended with him. The last thing Arthur saw was Merlin’s face watching over him, and Merlin’s lips tasted the last wisp of air that left his lungs.

* * *

**55.**

It's Gwen's first bondage shoot.

“We'll keep it simple,” says Morgana, hands all animated. “Just plain rope and a quick tie.”

Morgana is the photographer; Morgause is her partner – Gwen is not sure if romantic or business – and until now Gwen had been assuming Morgause did something behind the scenes, like accounting or PR.

“Morgause is my rope-meister,” says Morgana with a quick smile. Morgause rolls her eyes and begins to unwind a coil of rope.

Gwen shucks off her robe and kneels on the mattress. She raises her arms in preparation, but it takes Morgause a while to check the rope and they begin to sag.

The camera snaps. “For the behind-the-scenes section.” Morgana's lilting Irish voice is ever-soothing.

The last shoot Gwen had done, they'd painted her face up with too much eye-liner, made her wear a too-tight red bikini, and the cameraman had kept cupping her breasts without asking. Gwen had not wanted to do it again after that – but she needed the money.

Morgana and Morgause were all friendly and business-like. Morgana was in a waistcoat and big glasses, the kind of photographer Gwen wouldn't have been surprised to run into back when she was in university; Morgause was wearing a jumper, casual as you like, and neither of them had touched her except to shake hands.

“Are you ready?” Morgause says again, rope stretched between her hands like a tight-rope.

“Yes.” Gwen raises her arms.

Morgause cups her wrists together in one warm hand and loops the rope around them loosely. The other end goes through the ring hanging from the ceiling with a jangle of chain. “Tell me if it's too tight,” she says. The rope cinches – taut, but not so much that it pinches.

Morgause explains the knot she's tying as she ties it. She's so gentle and quick about it that it's over before Gwen realises, and she's bound.

“Can you feel your fingers?” Morgause asks. Gwen nods. “Good. Can you move your hands?” She swivels her wrists obediently. “Alright. We're ready.”

She backs up a few steps. Morgana hunches over the tripod.

“Spread your knees,” she said. “Yes, like that. And tilt your head back.”

*

Gwen comes back in for another session a few weeks later.

“Do you want to do something more complicated?” 

They show her a picture of the tie in the book first, and Gwen agrees because she likes the pattern. Morgause has rope wound about a criss-crossing her arms lickety-split, cinching them together. Morgana takes pictures the whole time, glasses perched on the end of her nose.

They tell her she looks good in rope, and she believes them.

*

She learns in her third session that Morgause, usually so stern and stoic, comes to life when she talks about rope, and she is shown pictures of Morgana in a rope-corset. In her fourth session she learns that Morgana and Morgause are a couple as well as business partners.

Morgause invites her for a fifth session over the phone. “We want to do a shoot with you and another woman,” she says. “Would that be alright?”

“I've done it before,” says Gwen, which doesn't strictly answer the question.

“It'd just be you and Morgana,” says Morgause.

Gwen's breath catches in her throat and she agrees without really meaning to.

*

She's worried it'll be strange, but it isn't. Morgana pads around the studio in a robe, lining up the shot and explaining to Gwen what the plan is.

Then, while Morgause is tying Gwen up, she slips out of her robe and kneels pale and perfect on the mattress. Her hand cups Gwen's breast.

The camera clicks and flashes a few times – Gwen's head tilted back, Morgana's lips pressed to the place between her breasts, the two of them almost nose to nose – and keeps on clicking as Morgana's lips trail downwards.

When Morgana's lips press against her pussy Gwen squeals, head thrown back and mouth open, and she's aware that it's going to be an amazing shot. Morgana's tongue coils around her clit and she can't quite forget about the camera, its _click-click-click_ keeps cutting through the fog of her arousal, but she doesn't care, the camera only makes it better.

The camera goes off three times as she's coming, _snap-snap-snap_ , and it's the first real orgasm Gwen's ever had on a shoot.

* * *

**56.**

It had taken much begging, lying, and underhanded tricks to get her father to agree to let Vivian use the lake house, but the look on Freya’s face when they pull up makes everything worth it.

“ _Oh_ ,” Freya says with a joyous breath, and runs from the car into the lake, fully clothed. “Are you coming in?” she calls. 

Vivian looks down at her designer sundress and contemplates digging through her trunk to find her swimsuit, but the sound of Freya’s laugh makes Vivian throw her inhibitions to the wind.

Vivian’s never been the kind of girl to go swimming in a lake, much less in her clothes, but since meeting Freya she’s become a little less controlled and a little more like the girls she’s outwardly snubbed and inwardly envied. Her overprotective father incurred a haughty standard, but looking at the way Freya glistens, Vivian suddenly wonders if he would have been better chasing away girls instead of boys.

Freya swims up to her, all sweet smiles, and Vivian has just enough time to inanely think, _I can count the water drops on her eyelashes_ , before her thoughts are interrupted by a well-aimed splash.

She splutters and screeches and tries to act offended, but it takes nothing more than a laugh from Freya to melt her scowl into a grin as she wrestles her way through the impressively large waves the small girl is making to grab Freya’s arms. It’s innocent enough, but the moment Vivian catches her and the water stills, Freya looks up through her damp lashes and things don’t seem so innocent. It’s a long, strangely electric pause, and then Freya seems to summon up some sort of courage as she dives in for a messy, wet kiss.

Vivian squeaks, but the moment Freya starts to pull back, she decides that she’s had enough of being _proper_. She throws her arms around Freya’s neck and slides her tongue between Freya’s lips, swallowing the moan it elicits. Her fingers run through Freya’s wet tangles as the other girl rocks into her with a whimper, and suddenly the water just isn’t solid enough for everything Vivian wants to do to her.

She pulls away with a gasp. “Back to shore, _now_.”

Freya’s eyes brim with excitement and nervousness, but she lets the other girl drag her to the shallows with no complaint.

It’s perfect timing – the thunder starts rolling the second they set foot on the rocky beach and the rain starts coming down in sheets, soaking the girls further as they run, laughing and shrieking, to the cottage. 

The moment they shut the door behind them, Freya presses against Vivian, panting against her mouth as she learns the taste and shape of it with her tongue. Her hair is curling at the ends, dripping on the tile, and the dim, stormy light that filters through the window catches the droplets on her skin, making her gleam. She looks like a water sprite, as ridiculous as the notion sounds, and Vivian _wants_.

And Vivian has never been one to back down from what she wants.

She bends her head down to lick the beads of water off Freya’s collarbones, delighting in the bitten off, “ _Vivian_.”

Vivian busies her tongue with the nipple showing through Freya’s white blouse and lets her hands wander down to slip the soaked cotton panties down Freya’s thighs. She hasn’t done this to anyone but herself before but she’s nothing if not a determined learner, and it only takes a moment to adapt to the feel of being between someone else’s legs. She rubs at Freya’s clit with one hand and uses her other to slide the strap off Freya’s shoulders to expose her breasts to allow her tongue better access.

Freya’s panting and squirming is surreally hot, and she’s never felt more on edge than when Freya comes with a sharp moan. Vivian flicks her tongue across the peaked nipple once more for emphasis and Freya pulls her up, flush against her. She grins into Freya’s mouth as they kiss, shaky, hot and determined.

Freya wastes no time in pulling her over to the couch and spreading Vivian’s thighs with a grin. “This isn’t exactly what I was expecting when you said a ‘quiet weekend at the lake.’”

“Me neither,” says Vivian, and gasps loudly when Freya leans in to lick her through her underwear. “But this is far more fun than swimming, don’t you think?”

Freya’s answering grin has a predatory gleam.

* * *

**57.**

Arthur woke to the crash of thunder overhead. He bolted upright, clutching at the sides of the small boat in which he found himself as it pitched in the center of a wide lake. Lightning cracked down from the sky and split a tree on the far shore. Arthur scrambled backwards, choking on the heavy rain.

Then a flash of light and heat blinded him. The wood splintered around him, and he plunged into the cold water.

He struggled, but the weight of his armor dragged him down, faster and faster as the water saturated his clothing. Above him, the surface glowed with lightning and shimmered with raindrops.

But a greater light illuminated the lake from below him. As he fell into it, he saw two shapes outlined before him: a man and a woman, naked and pale in the eerie light. They seemed to argue, until the woman turned towards Arthur with a smile of luminous sweetness.

Then the man turned and stole the last of Arthur’s breath. 

His eyes glimmered gold; his body was a graceful sway of white, and his hair, longer than Arthur had ever seen it, floated around his head in an otherworldly crown. The gape of confusion, however, was every bit Arthur’s own Merlin.

Merlin floated towards him. The woman followed, bringing the light with her. Arthur drank in everything in Merlin's eyes, the look of disbelief, hope, and heartbreak. Merlin’s mouth opened and closed. The woman’s mouth opened and her laughter rang in Arthur’s mind.

She took Merlin’s hand and guided it to Arthur’s chest. Instantly the pressure eased in his lungs. He still could not breathe, but nor did he need to.

Merlin’s chest heaved once as though in sympathy. A single choked sob echoed in Arthur’s mind before Merlin turned and darted off into the darker waters.

The urge to follow spiked through him from head to groin. The lady laughed again. Her touch felt sacrosanct as she pulled away his belt and lifted his tabard over his head.

With each layer she removed, Arthur felt lighter, purer, stronger. Energy pulsed into his cock. By the time his trousers floated away, he stood ramrod-stiff and urgent.

The lady cupped his face and gave him a single sweet kiss. When she released him, understanding seeped through him of what he had to do. He pushed off the lake floor and swam after Merlin.

A bit of torn kelp, a disgruntled eel; the signs guided him as he swam. When he spotted the wreck of a ship far too large to have ever sailed this lake, he knew he had his white hart. 

Merlin had his back against the hull. A kick brought Arthur in a gentle arc until he caught himself on Merlin’s shoulder. Merlin startled, but didn’t flee again. He stared at Arthur as though needing proof of his reality.

Arthur provided it as he kissed and caressed him. Merlin didn’t move, but soon his cock was as hard as Arthur’s. Arthur pulled him out into the open water, guided his arms around Arthur’s neck and his legs around Arthur’s waist.

When they were entwined, Merlin finally responded. He gripped hard at Arthur’s shoulders, positioning their bodies until Arthur’s cock sheathed in him. Arthur pressed his face into Merlin’s neck, felt Merlin’s fingers in his hair, the sweet grip of him around Arthur’s cock as they floated together, bodies joined.

After a while, Merlin let himself fall backwards to float outstretched. Arthur gripped his hips to keep him anchored. The position urged him to thrust and fuck deeper into Merlin’s warmth; so he did.

The heat built between them until Arthur spilled his own heat into Merlin. As he did, he reached down and worked Merlin into the same state, and then pulled Merlin back into his arms. He held Merlin through his orgasm; the clenching of Merlin’s arse drew out his own sweet aftershocks.

They drifted, limp, sated, and bound, until out of nowhere a swift current seized them and propelled them up and out of the lake. They washed up on the soft ground of the shore. Air flooded Arthur’s lungs as Merlin choked and gasped into his shoulder.

Above them, the storm had cleared. A stranger, softer roar rumbled into Arthur’s ears. He squinted up into the blue sky just as a bird crossed the sun—a bird of tremendous size and made of...iron?

Arthur closed his eyes again and curled around Merlin. He would deal with the rest of this situation later.

* * *

**58.**

As is always their luck, the so-called Crevice of Many Wonders is actually a hole in a rock. Merlin works very hard to keep a straight face.

“That,” Arthur says flatly, his voice rather high. “That is what I’m meant to put my…my…”

“Cock?” Merlin suggests.

“ _Manhood_.” Arthur grits his teeth and appears to struggle for patience, which is never a good sign. “I’m meant to put it in there?”

“This is where Gaius said it would be.” Merlin hunches down to peer into the hole. It’s nothing unusual, just a circular opening in the rock face on the side of a cave. Truth be told, it doesn’t look like a particularly friendly place to put one’s cock.

“If it hadn’t been Gaius who sent us here, I would strongly suspect you of playing me for a fool,” Arthur says, crouching beside him.

“Mmm,” Merlin says, and sticks his fingers in the hole. It’s a stony channel inside, cold and slightly damp, but there’s nothing magical here that Merlin can sense. “Seems normal enough?”

“It’s a _magical sex hole_ , Merlin, there is nothing normal about it.”

Merlin looks at Arthur, waiting. Arthur looks back, narrows his eyes, and sighs. “Fine. Let’s get this over with. Go wait outside.”

“I’d best stay,” Merlin says reasonably. “Just until we know it’s not going to chop your cock off.”

“You are a coarse, treasonous idiot,” Arthur says, but he doesn’t say no.

Despite their mutual bravado, it’s pretty nerve-wracking, the moment Arthur yanks open his laces and shuffles up against the rock. The hole seems to have been originally made for a taller man, and Arthur has to go up on his toes and turn his cheek against the wall so that he can press into it. Merlin holds his breath when Arthur feeds his flaccid prick into the hole.

“Well?” 

“Nothing’s happening,” Arthur says, adjusting himself.

“Gaius said it would..y’know…do things to you. He said you shouldn’t touch yourself at all.”

“I remember what he said.” Arthur shifts from foot to foot.

“Why don’t you hump it a bit and see what happens?” Merlin offers with an encouraging flap of his hand. Which lands, unfortunately, on Arthur’s bare arse cheek, where his trousers have slid down.

Arthur jumps. “Merlin!”

“Sorry, sorry.”

*

“This isn’t working,” Arthur spits, a quarter hour later, brow sweaty and legs trembling as he tries to stay on his toes. “It’s just a rock.”

“But if you don’t—”

“I _know_ ,” Arthur yells and then quiets himself. They both know the inevitable Dire Consequences™ that will befall the kingdom should Arthur not complete this task. “I know. Just— just come here. Help me.”

“All right.” Merlin watches as Arthur struggles to keep himself up against the wall.. “How?”

“Will you…” Arthur clears his throat. “Will you do as you did earlier? With your hand?”

“With my….” Merlin sorts through the recent past. “You mean hit you?”

Arthur lets out a frustrated noise and turns his head away. “Yes. Hit me. It will help get the blood flowing.”

Merlin is not sure this theory is medically sound, but these are desperate times, so he tries an soft, experimental swat at Arthur’s thigh.

“Higher,” Arthur says softly. “On my bum.”

Merlin feels his eyebrows go very high. “Right.”

He tries a smack against the fattest part of Arthur’s arse cheek, half covered with his trousers. When that gets no response, he tries another, and then a third.

“Er. Like that?”

“Harder.”

Merlin gives him three more: his thumb and forefinger graze skin on each strike. Merlin isn’t putting much strength into it, really, but on the third hit, Arthur makes a startled noise.

“Oh god,” Arthur croaks before Merlin can apologize. “It moved.”

“What?”

“The hole, it’s narrowed. It’s got smaller around me. It’s—oh—it’s working.” Arthur swallows audibly. “Continue.”

Merlin continues. And then continues some more, because Arthur’s making these breathy grunts that, as his trousers fall further and further down and wrinkle under the curve of his pink arse, become looser and more breathless, almost like laughter.

It might have been worrying, except Arthur’s rolling his body in needy thrusts, forward into the hole and backward against Merlin’s hand.

“Come _on_ ,” Arthur gasps. “Put your back into it, you—”

Merlin scoffs and snaps his arm in a stinging strike, and Arthur comes in the middle of the word “ass,” his arse clenching under Merlin’s fingers.

* * *

**59.**

Gwaine grinned tiredly as he twisted the key in the lock to his flat. It had been a good night out, one filled with fond memories and the easy camaraderie of dear friends.

Chuckling softly, he tossed his bag onto the sofa as he passed it, he stretched and shuffled toward his bedroom. He stripped as he made his way towards the bed, kneeling down next to it and pulling out a large shoebox. 

Standing with a sigh, he set it down and picked up the lid, placing that back on the floor. He grinned at the first image he saw -- a pair of very lovely, large breasts, held tight together just for him. He remembered her fondly. She’d been lusty and accommodating, more than happy to let him photograph whatever he wanted.

Further down in the pile, he knew, amid snapshots of other breast and other dicks and many, many other pussies, were more photos of her -- some of her gloriously wet cunt, some of him as he penetrated her, even one of his cum splashed beautifully across her stomach -- but this was his favorite of her. He’d had many a good wank to this one picture. But tonight -- tonight was about honoring a memory, and that’s just what he planned to do. 

Digging a little, he pulled out several snapshots, then closed the box and placed it on the floor. Climbing onto the bed, he arranged the pillows against the headboard and settled against them. Picking up the first photo, he let his hand drift across his chest, tweaking his nipple to a hard point as he looked at dark hair and the delicate curve of an ear. 

He had loved this face well. The bright, sunny smile and those amazing cheekbones had worked him up many times before, and their memory did no less now. Gwaine smiled at the imagined sound of joyful laughter and whispered “I loved you”s and moaned to the memory of full wet lips dragging across his skin.

Reaching up, he licked his fingers, making sure they were nice and wet before returning to playing with his nipple, imagining that it was the lips and teeth from the next photo tugging and pulling at it. The man had had quite a way with his mouth.

Gwaine flipped to the next picture and moaned as phantom fingers caressed his sides. His own fingers followed their path, fingernails dragging in hot lined down his stomach. He remember this, too. How his lover had liked to mark him. Gwaine turned his head, baring his neck to imagined lips sucking and bruising before moving to capture his own in a surprisingly tender kiss.

Reaching down next to him, Gwaine grabbed the bottle of lube that was next to the pictures, pausing to study the images underneath it. A beautifully uncut penis stood proudly against coarse black hair, and he moaned as the memory of how it had felt to be filled by it washed over him. The memory was helped along tremendously by the visual stimulation of the tip of it disappearing into his own arse.

He hadn’t even known the picture’d been taken until months later, after the accident and the long, lonely nights. He’d just gotten to wanting it again and had found these two pictures tucked into his box, waiting for him like a thoughtful lover. It really shouldn’t have surprised him.

Pouring lube onto his fingers, he ran his hand down the crease of his thigh, teasing himself a bit with one hand as he wrapped the other around his straining dick. Setting a languid, flowing rhythm, he let himself get lost in the memory of another hand stroking him; long, tapered fingers wrapping just a hair too loose as they worked him to the edge. 

Gwaine moaned and dragged the pad of his thumb over his slit, fondling and teasing back down under the head. Thrusting his hips up, he tightened his grip and reached back with his other hand, pulling gently at his balls before inching back further. Finding his hole, he rubbed at it lightly, just a teasing touch, before pressing more firmly.

Slowly, his finger slid in, and he set a rhythm counter to the hand on his dick, pushing up into one hand as he pulled back from the other. Building speed, he could feel his orgasm approaching.

“Merlin,” he moaned as the memory of his lost love pushed him over the edge.

* * *

**60.**

Merlin’s mobile goes off at three in the morning. It wakes him from a dead sleep, blaring out the whistling tune he’s not changed since he bought it.

He scrambles for it, pulls the charger it’s attached to out of the wall in his haste and rasps a half-whispered, “Hello?”

“It’s me,” Arthur says.

***

He’s waiting outside under a few inches of protruding roof when Merlin arrives, shoulders dark with rain.

The last time Merlin saw him, Arthur was a bloke called Ben who works at a Ford plant in Southampton, has a girlfriend in Portsmouth, and has phoned the police on Merlin five times.

“It’s been a month,” Merlin says when he is near enough for Arthur to hear him, jittery at being this close again, hot behind the eyes the closer he gets.

“A month,” Arthur says.

They've still not worked out how to properly navigate a greeting. There isn't anything Merlin can think of that might express how he feels when Arthur’s stood in front of him, being _Arthur_ for god knows how long this time around. Nothing to mix that with all of the old awkward bits and pieces of them that pour out like they might have back in Camelot, like Merlin hasn't waited a thousand years and hasn't spent two more waiting for each sporadic burst and subsequent fade of Arthur’s memories. It’s ridiculous that Merlin always wonders at first, for a few seconds, if Arthur will want to kiss him again.

When they’re in the house and they make it to the sofa, Arthur does.

It should be about more than this. Maybe it would be if they were granted longer than a day, three days, five days in a month, but humans are predictable creatures. Even the immortal ones. So they take off their clothes and push each other down into the cushions, running hands over skin and lips and hair and anywhere they can reach to make sure they are okay in this way.

Merlin gets onto his knees between Arthur’s spread thighs, soaking in the heat of him. A cock in his mouth still feels like a new thing. The way Arthur tenses up, the high whine he lets out when he’s prodding the back of Merlin’s throat - all of it new, and neither of them keep their heads very well in the face of it.

Distantly, as Merlin pulls off and licks at the slit, he wonders if Ben’s girlfriend does this to him, crouched in this same spot, sucking on this same dick. He knows she does. He witnessed her riding it once on accident, when Arthur’d phoned him and slipped away again before Merlin could get to him. The curtains had been open and he’d stood there for twenty minutes, watching familiar hands clutch at her violently rocking hips, thinking of Gwen.

Merlin takes Arthur back in, reaching up to grip his arse and pull him closer so he’s open and displayed. Merlin’s.

“Want you to fuck me,” Merlin says, mouth still pressed to Arthur’s cock so the words come out muffled and wet. Arthur bends down and pulls him forward, goes for Merlin’s lips with his own and fucks him there on the sofa, the wetness Merlin’s learned to conjure up slipping between them with each thrust.

He rests his elbows on Arthur’s shoulders, hands in his hair, holding him close as Arthur pants against Merlin’s neck, and he wonders if Ben ever notices Merlin’s been on his cock.

***

They can’t stay the night together. Arthur wakes as Ben too often and it had been ugly the one time they’d done it.

“Go to sleep,” Merlin whispers, and doesn't mean it at all.

“No,” Arthur says back, but he blinks, slowly, heavily. Ben had worked that day. He’s got work in the morning. “What if it’s...longer...next time -” he says, haltingly. “Longer than a month? I don’t want you -”

“Shhh,” Merlin hushes, and kisses him again, his lips and his chin, his forehead, his neck, the side of his face, until Arthur’s breathing is even.

Merlin watches him a little while, until he himself falls asleep for ten minutes and wakes again. 

After that he shifts himself out of Arthur’s grip, shivers without his arm around him and searches the floor for his clothes.

When he pulls his jeans on, he slips his hand in the pocket and closes it around his phone, making sure it’s still there.

* * *

**61.**

The book of Gwaine's love

It started when they were drunk (obviously).

“You what?” Arthur asked.

“A book,” Gwaine slurred. 

“Of everyone you've ever-”

“Shagged, yes. Well. The good ones, anyway,” Gwaine finished, nodding. “No faces, nothing overly identifying, just...mementos.”

“I don't believe you,” Leon said. “You're talking bullshit.” 

“I am not, I can prove it. In fact – Lance can back me up.” Gwaine gestured. Lance was trying to hide behind his pint, which wasn't working well for him. Merlin could see how red he'd gone. Merlin was intrigued by the idea. He wondered what weird metrics Gwaine measured his lays against. Merlin shifted in his seat, arousal stirring at the idea of Gwaine judging his sexual prowess. He coughed and keyed back into the conversation, not wanting to draw attention to himself. 

“Lance? Oh, Lance, really? Gwaine?” Arthur asked, giving him a look that was half shock half pity. 

“Hey!” Gwaine said, punching Arthur on the shoulder. 

Lance nodded. “I was drunk!”

Merlin couldn't believe that Lance was in the book. He wondered which other of their friend's Gwaine had been impressed by. 

“The first time,” Gwaine muttered. Everyone collapsed into laughter, even Lance. 

“Well.” Leon said. “At least you know you were good.”

“Yeah, thanks for that,” Lance said. 

“Classy as ever, Gwaine,” Merlin said. Gwaine just winked at him.

“Comes in useful on those long lonely nights, I'll tell you.” 

“TMI, mate,” Arthur said. 

That settled it, Merlin had to get in that book. 

~~~  
First he had to seduce Gwaine, which was surprisingly hard. He started by going to Gwaine's house, bottle of wine in hand. He'd normally get some cheap vodka or beer, but he wanted something to show his intent a little bit. If Gwaine questioned it he could say it was on offer. 

“Merlin, hi. Wasn't expecting you.” 

“Flatmate's got the boyfriend over – want the place to themselves.” 

Gwaine nodded knowingly. “Say no more. Come in, make yourself at home.” Gwaine stepped back. 

“Thanks,” Merlin said. 

Gwaine poured the wine and handed one to Merlin. 

“Posh, eh? Very nice,” Gwaine said, taking a sip. 

Merlin shrugged, gulping his a bit. Now he was here he had no idea what to do. I his head he'd gone from sitting on the couch to drinking wine to being in Gwaine's bed. The inbetween bit was a bit fuzzy. 

He and Gwaine made small talk, making quick work of the wine. Gwaine put his empty glass down, lips still shiny from his last sip. _Fuck it_ Merlin thought, and launched himself at Gwaine. 

Gwaine made a muffled sound of shock as Merlin pressed his lips against Gwaine's, chasing the taste of wine with his tongue. Merlin tugged on Gwaine's hair a bit, until Gwaine kissed him back, hands coming up to cup Merlin's arse. 

Merlin groaned, and pulled back. “Bed?”

“Yeah,” Gwaine grinned.

~~~  
Gwaine levered himself out of bed. Merlin rolled over to watch him pull on a pair of boxers and sit on the window sill. He lit a cigarette, taking a long drag. 

“Well?” Merlin asked, still sleepy.

“Well, what?” Gwaine asked, voice husky. 

“Get your camera then,” Merlin said, stretching. 

“Very sure of yourself aren't you?”

Merlin just grinned. “I seem to remember you enjoying yourself last night.” 

Gwaine shook his head and laughed. He stubbed his half finished cigarette out in an ashtray kept on the window sill. He walked to his chest of drawers and picked up a camera. 

Merlin swallowed. “How do you want me?” He was suddenly nervous, self-conscious. Which was ridiculous seeing how much he wanted to be in this situation. 

“However you want – whatever makes you comfortable,” Gwaine said, fiddling with the settings. 

“Tell me,” Merlin said. Gwaine looked up, eyes dark, and Merlin swallowed again, feeling himself blush. 

Gwaine tugged the bedsheets off Merlin. 

“Bend your knee, here,” Gwaine said, slipping a hand under Merlin's leg and re-arranging him. Merlin shuddered, feeling his cock fill again. 

“Gorgeous,” Gwaine murmured. He ran his fingers gently up Merlin's half-hard cock. He brought the camera up and took a snap. Merlin groaned, feeling his cock harden fully. 

Gwaine licked the length of Merlin's cock. Merlin threw his head back against the pillow and dimly registered another snap of the camera. Gwaine made a noise that could only be described as satisfied, before swallowing Merlin down again.

* * *

**62.**

**ThunderStorm**

The sun set a flame to the encroaching evening vale of midnight. Crimson tendrils reaching out from the once powder blue skies that were now dipped in amethyst ether. A silent symphony of sultry, saturated skies played on before the adoring audience upon the earth. Enraptured with the voluptuous horizon sat Merlin, gazing at the heavens above, with a flake of glistening gold in his eyes. A rustle in the surrounding forestry awakened him from his reverie, as he looked around, strong arms came around him from behind. He gasped taking in the smell of spices, leather and something he knew only as Arthur; his Prince. Merlin sunk back against the hard planes of Arthur’s chest purring contentedly as the arms around him tightened securely.

“Hey you.” Arthur whispered into his ear, his hot breath dancing across the sensitive skin below his ear, sending chills coiling down his spine. Merlin let his head drop back onto Arthur’s shoulder looking up at him. “Hey.”

Arthur soundlessly kissed his forehead and the tip of his nose. Merlin smiled and pursed his lips awaiting his kiss, but Arthur merely brushed past them with his own, a ghost of a touch, softer than the flutter of a butterflies newly sprung wings. Merlin mewled mournfully, trying to chase his Prince’s lips, though quickly stopped when the long elegant column of his neck was peppered with kisses. 

The slow torturous exploration Arthur’s tongue worked on Merlin’s neck coupled with his wandering hands had the young warlock panting in moments, melting back into his lover. So involved in one another were the two, they barely registered the distant rumble of clouds; engorged and the far off glimmer of lightning; effulgent.

They wasted no time, shedding clothes and world wearies alike. Soon they both lay naked, bathed in shimmering moonlight as the last traces of the sun disappeared into the horizon. They were free of the shackles of this life in this moment, free to drift in the air like the tiny raindrops that had begun to fall from the darkening night skies. Another faded grumbling of the overcast blanket of night warned of trouble, though neither man cared.

One glistening raindrop fell landing on Merlin’s chest; Arthur leaned in from above and chased the droplet with the tip of his tongue. 

Merlin moaned. “Arthur…” 

At the call of his name he moved up and finally their lips crashed together, just as the skies thrashed, thunder, engulfing them as their tongues wrestled and slithered within their joined mouths.

Their bodies, damp and chilled by the frigid weather, yet searing when they would grind against the other in sinful pleasure. With every move they freefell further into their own utopian dream. Their bodies ground out the melody to a song unwritten and yet the lyrics sang out of every pore in their sweat slicked flesh, the beat kept in time by their racing hearts, speeding towards euphoria.

Merlin shivered as another roar of thunder followed a blinding flash of light, just as Arthur’s firm calloused hand found his cock, dripping and aching. Slicking his rough fingers with the fluid leaking from his solid erection, Arthur traced his tight hole before slipping inside. The rain fell harder as Arthur pushed further, stretching him with his skilled fingertips.

“Please!” begged Merlin. 

Arthur could not deny him, pulling his lovers legs up till they rested on his wide shoulders, he slowly pushed the head of his throbbing cock past the still tight ring of muscle with a deep groan that was echoed , thunderously in the heavens above.

Merlin keened and opened himself up for his love, chanting his name like a prayer as the Prince began to fuck him in steadily harder strokes, rubbing over his prostate in a delicious agony.

“Mine.” Arthur growled as his thrusts became crazed along with the torrential storm around them. He bit down on Merlin’s neck, marking him. Merlin screamed into the abyss of the stormy night as he came hard without his cock being touched. Clawing at Arthur’s back wildly, pulsating with pleasure. Arthur felt Merlin squeeze his dick tightly; it was all he could take following his lover into bliss.

Hours later they lay embracing arms gazing at the now clear night sky, its midnight complexion freckled with stars. Arthur pulled his Pendragon cloak around them and curled around Merlin’s smaller frame, wrapping them tightly together. They slept under the blanket of midnight that night, and many nights since.

* * *

**63.**

_VRRR VRRR VRRR VRRR_

Merlin reaches out from under his pillow to swat at the phone buzzing on the nightstand. For some reason it's farther away than usual and he ends up falling out of bed, taking most of the sheet with him. He lies on the floor, rubbing at his face in an effort to wake up. When he finally opens his eyes he realizes that this is not his nightstand. This is not his bedroom. It's Arthur's.

He and Arthur have been working in the same office for a few years and after a bit of a rocky start (in which Merlin may or may not have had Arthur's car towed among other things) they became good friends. They meet for lunch at least once a week to catch up and gossip about the newest office hook up scandal, and friendship has always been enough. Except lately Arthur's been spending more and more time with leggy blondes and fit brunets and it's driving Merlin crazy.

Last night Arthur hosted a party to encourage their co-workers to think of something other than work. Merlin has the vague recollection of drinking more than his share of alcohol and admitting to being completely infatuated with Arthur.

 _Maybe nothing happened,_ Merlin thinks. _Maybe I just passed out ...naked._

He peeks over the edge of the bed and sees Arthur lying there, sheet pulled down to the very bottom of his back from Merlin's flailing. _Jesus, his shoulders._ Merlin sits down on the floor, running a hand through his hair. There's something gross under his thigh - a wash cloth stiff with dried come, oh god.

Now Merlin starts to piece it together.

They kept to separate corners all night: Merlin on one side discussing the latest episode of his favorite show with Gwen, Arthur on the other flirting with a gotgeous man Merlin had never seen before. Every time Arthur threw his head back laughing, Merlin gulped down another gin and tonic attempting to treat his jealousy with alcohol. Eventually Merlin consumed enough liquid courage that he simply marched up to Arthur where he was getting another beer and said something to the effect of, "I like your stupid face and I wouldn't mind seeing it every morning." Arthur looked stunned, he remembers that.

Soon people began to leave and Arthur dragged him to his bedroom to talk. They didn't actually get to the talking. They barely managed to get through the door before Arthur had pushed him against the wall, kissing him fiercely. There was fumbling with clothing and falling into bed. Arthur holding Merlin like he couldn't stop touching him, like this would all fade away if he stopped wringing Merlin's dick.

Merlin remembers Arthur's cock. Remembers the perfect weight of it in his hand, the perfect taste of it in his mouth. The way Arthur's eyes rolled back in his head and his hands pulled at the sheets whenever Merlin was particularly skillful with his tongue....

"Merlin, would you get up here?"

Merlin starts, nearly jumping out of his skin at the sound of Arthur's voice. He turns cautiously to look at him. Arthur's smiling at him, the sheet at his hips about to fall away completely.

"If you're not coming back to bed, do us a favor and go make some bacon."

* * *

**64.**

“Look what I’ve found,” Elena says, using her softest brush to flick away the last of the dirt on the black rectangle she’s unearthed. 

Gwen climbs over the yellow rope demarcating Elena’s site to have a look. 

“Fascinating,” she says, prodding at the little rubber nubs raised off the artefact’s face. “Let’s bring it inside.”

+++

When they’re back onboard the ship and have their alt-atmosphere suits stowed, they set Elena’s find in the examination field and strip it down to schematics.

“Look at that,” Gwen says, reaching through the 3D rendering to its tiny circuit board.

“Been awhile since we’ve seen one of those,” Elena says, voice round with laughter. Gwen looks at her and they giggle, giddy in the face of their first Old Earth discovery.

+++

Once they’ve saturated its quaint little battery with power, the device chirps, vibrates, sends rudimentary messages and even plays music.

“So strange that they used it for so many unrelated tasks,” Gwen says, taking notes. Elena turns it over and over in her hands, enjoying its weight and sleek, freshly sanitized surface.

+++

Elena brings the OEMobile Mark1 and a laserdriver to her quarters. With a little tinkering she can make it ring continuously. She bites her tongue and pokes a little deeper, just to see what will happen. The device jolts, vibrating out of her hand and into her lap. It presses to her crotch as she fishes for it. The sensation is odd, ticklish. Another feature, perhaps?

If she remembers her Old Earth history correctly, ancient human civilizations stimulated their genitals to aid in the production of offspring. The pursuit of space and its mysteries made such organic processes inconvenient, and once the technology to engineer viable zygotes was perfected, it became obsolete. Recreational eroticism, as far as she’s aware, now fell under the domain of the VR arcades and museums. 

She presses the buzzing little brick to her lips. It tingles, and she smiles. Curious, she strips out of her khakis and experiments with touching it to different parts of her body. It makes her belly twitch, but has no noticeable effect on her knees or arms.

“Ooh,” she laughs, flinching away from her nipple. “I can see the appeal.” She holds it there for a few moments, then switches to her other breast. It sends a warm sensation through her gut, novel and pleasant. After a time she notices that her thighs are damp, the folds of her sex rather flushed and sensitive. 

“Strange,” she whispers. Hesitantly, she skates the mobile down her stomach and between her legs. It takes a second to find the source of her heightened sensitivity, but when she does she shouts, spasming and dropping the device. Panting, she slaps the onboard intercom and calls “Gwen!” 

In spite of the size of their ship, Gwen is there in moments, squeezing through the door before it’s fully opened. “Are you alright? What’s wrong?” she says, tugging out her medical scanner. 

“No, it’s fine; I’ve discovered something,” Elena says, petting Gwen’s wrist to reassure her. “Look, watch—” she says, grabbing the device and leaning back on her bunk. She’s ginger with it at first, still a little uncertain, and Gwen is looking at her with a worried crease to her brow that suggests she doesn’t fully believe Elena hasn’t fallen and concussed herself again. 

“It’s okay— ah!” Elena cries out, curling around the press of her hand. 

Gwen reaches for her, worry graduating to alarm. “Elena—”

“No no no no, watch, watch,” Elena gasps, rubbing the edge of the mobile in quick little circles. The feeling is remarkable, lighting up nerves as distant from her groin as her scalp and toes. It makes her feel desperate and hot, as if she’s pursuing something just out of reach. “Ah, Gwen, it’s— it’s building, I don’t—” she jerks, clawing at her sheets as her muscles clench, gripping at nothing. “Oh Gwen it’s good, Gwen I’m—” and then she squeals, quite involuntarily, rocking through sweet flashes of sensation that crest and ebb like waves, Gwen’s hands steady on her thighs throughout. 

“...Elena?” Gwen says, after she’s taken several moments to catch her heaving breath. 

“Oh, wow,” Elena sighs, palming her face. She shakes her head and meets Gwen’s eyes, laughing at the easing signs of concern in her expression. “ _Wow_. What do you think?” she smiles, wiggling her toes. 

Gwen glances between Elena’s flushed chest, her splayed legs — her loose grip around the mobile. There’s an intrigued light in her eyes as she slides it from Elena’s fingers.

“I think I’d like to try.”

* * *

**65.**

It has become a depressing game Arthur played with himself, to fight the emptiness in his heart, and until sunup Merlin played by the rules. Merlin was no fool; he knew that in the blackness of the night, Arthur could have who he wanted in his bed, even if Merlin's body was a substitute.

It always started with the same question, before Arthur was to retire for the night, but it wasn't the question, but the unasked request of Merlin. _Stay with me, I cannot be alone tonight._

“Do you have any duties for Gaius, in the morning, Merlin?”

“No sire, none that I know of.”

“Come and snuff the candles.”

Arthur would always let Merlin in the bed chamber first, watching him move about, extinguishing candles, slowly engulfing the room into darkness. Because the second rule was, it always happened in darkness. 

Undressing, Merlin climbed onto the bed, following the third rule, no talking. He let the rustle of bed sheets let Arthur know that he was ready for the next step.

Arthur would come to him, his passion and need, different each time.

Sometimes it was hard a sweaty, Merlin on his knees, face down fingers digging deep into his hips. It was on these nights Arthur used sex to take control of his anger and insert his dominance, over who ever Merlin was that night, to the point where Merlin feared he'd be too bruised to walk the next day. 

Tonight though, Arthur took him time with kisses so profound, Merlin felt as Arthur was trying to devour him whole. Arthur tasted the sweat on Merlin’s skin, the feel of his flesh in his teeth, nibbling Merlin’s earlobes. 

Pulling Merlin to straddle him, Arthur leisurely dragged his cock between the round globes of Merlin’s ass, teasing his hole with harder pressure at each pass. 

Merlin knew Arthur hadn't bedded a man before their first time, when he had tried to enter him dry and tight. Now, Merlin closed his eyes, and let a bit of magic help, when Arthur pushed inside. 

Merlin set the pace, riding Arthur with a slow grind, hands next to Arthur's shoulders, careful not to touch. Arthur's hands caress Merlin's body, down his back and up along his ribs, staying away from any area that would remind Arthur that he was male. 

And that was the fourth rule, touching. It wasn't that Arthur didn't want Merlin to touch him, but Arthur stayed from touch areas that reminded him of Merlin's lack of breasts. 

They moved like this, quietly in the shadows, until Arthur's control faltered and he came deep, holding Merlin's hips still. 

Merlin learned early on that on nights like this Arthur, who pictured someone else in his bed, didn't want Merlin to leave. Body satisfied for now, Arthur fell asleep easy, with the warmth of a body at his side. 

It was nights like this that Merlin would lay awake, heart almost breaking, because Arthur was making love to a person he couldn't have. That why the rules were important to protect them both. Merlin knew better to never let Arthur into his heart. 

Not like Gwen had gotten into Arthur’s.

Merlin never knew how deep Arthur's love for Gwen was, until she picked Lancelot over Arthur. He stood next to Arthur, not as a servant, but as a friend, the day he watched the couple ride out of Camelot under the mist of a spring drizzle. 

After that day, Merlin saw an Arthur no one else saw, the sad brokenhearted man outside of the public eye. One that needed the comfort in the darkness.

* * *

**66.**

Merlin pulled the rope a bit tighter.

Arthur looked good tied up and helpless. There was something exhilarating at having someone as proud and powerful as Arthur Pendragon under his thumb like this. Today it was tying him up, but it had been spanking, fucking him over his work papers, and many other things before. After telling everyone else what to do all day, Arthur liked to let go of his control for a while during sex, and Merlin was more than happy to provide the release.

The rope formed a nice pattern over the muscles and soft, soft skin. Before the end of the night Merlin knew Arthur would be a sobbing, pleading mess, and the thought filled him with pleasure and arousal. The power he felt in his fingers when he played with the rope, listening to breathing and faint gasps, felt a bit like magic. 

It couldn’t be explained, not quite, how kind and innocent-looking Merlin could make Arthur behave like this. Everyone at the workplace knew about Merlin and Arthur, even though they didn’t know exactly what they did together. All they knew was that Arthur’s personal assistant was more than just an employee to him and that the dynamics of their relationship weren’t as uncomplicated as they might’ve seemed like for an outsider. During the day Arthur might be heard yelling how useless Merlin was at everything, but Merlin had never been fired which on its own told the others there was more than just strict work relationship going on between them. 

Smirking at Arthur, Merlin leaned down to trace the patterns the rope formed with his tongue and fingers. Arthur was holding his breath, but didn’t speak even when Merlin’s hand slid between Arthur’s legs. Maybe Arthur was just so used to following rules that he didn’t even consider disobeying, or maybe he just knew what the reward would be if he was a good boy. Merlin had once, just once, left Arthur without a release at the end of their playtime just to remind him that it was still an option.

First before any climax there was time to tease him though. The build-up was Merlin’s reward much more than the fucking or the release he would have later. This was Merlin’s favourite part, and since in the end it led to Arthur coming so hard that he sometimes blacked out, he’d never heard any complaints.

Arthur was a close friend, and they made a good match. They spent most of their time arguing, but Merlin knew he would’ve liked to be more than co-workers, more than friends, more than fuckbuddies with Merlin. 

They never talked about it, but he knew.

All of their friends knew too that Arthur Pendragon, the heir to the Pendragon business empire, was more than a bit infatuated with his PA. 

More than anything though, Merlin hoped that he could’ve loved Arthur back the way he should have. He would’ve given all he had to love Arthur more than as a friend, as someone attractive, as someone he enjoyed dominating. They would’ve made a good match outside bed too, but Merlin didn’t feel that way.

And they never talked about it anyway.

* * *

**67.**

His smirking 'instrument' opened the special desk drawer, painfully aware even the sound of the wood rubbing against like materials would be used in the show. Maybe it would be the cocking of a cross bow. Or the sheathing of a sword. 

Naked save for his collar, his instrument reached in, pulled out all the required items for the day, and like the perfect finely tuned man that he was, he kept his mouth open the entire time, never once breaking his kneeling position on the floor. It was a taunt and a dare, a flaunting challenge of how good he could be.

Merlin, also naked, placed the tip of his rapidly filling cock to Arthur's mouth. It glistened as six mics picked up every last detail in their home sound studio. Arthur made sure of it, just as sure as his perfect lips held open for Merlin to glide easily in. The squelching sound of wet friction and that tiniest bit of suction from the faint gasps of Arthur's breathing matched perfectly to what Merlin needed. These sloppy noises would be the boots marching through a muddy field. Over and over Merlin let the tip slip past his instrument's dripping tongue to the back of his throat, careful not to push too hard since he needed clear repetitive sounds that he could layer. Arthur thought of it as teasing when Merlin did this. Arthur wanted Merlin to push harder and if they weren't recording, Merlin's sure Arthur would have bitched serval kinds of fits at not having his skull throughly fucked by now.

Pushy pratty bottom. It was one of the reasons Merlin loved this little game of theirs. A single day long session provided all the sound effects needed for a 2 hour movie or documentary, during which time Arthur had to take things as slow as Merlin needed them to be. Not that Arthur didn't enjoy himself. Merlin made sure his royal pain in the butt husband came as often as he liked. It was just on Merlin's terms for a change. Sort of.

Merlin turned the bass down on mic 4 and soundlessly tapped Arthur on the shoulder, a signal to get louder. Merlin picked up the gag from the desk and bit into it. He needed the reminder more than Arthur that his own noise at this moment wasn't an option. No matter how good his dick felt getting pulled deep into Arthur's now tight suction filled mouth, even bucking his hips would move the chair. The best Merlin could do was place a hand to the back of Arthur's head, grab a handful of hair, and time the resulting pulse of whimpers to reflect an animal in heat.

Skilled hunters imitated rutting animals with crude devices to change the pallet of a human's mouth. Arthur wouldn't need anything changed. The messy stilted grunts he uttered around Merlin's cock were again just what Merlin needed. Raw and powerful, the strength of an animal looking to mate and fuck. The grip of Merlin's fist relaxed then tightened to a forceful speed, one that would make them both come hard. He never bothered to block out the sounds of either of their orgasms, so he let slip the gag from his mouth and cried out Arthur's name.

* * *

**68.**

Arthur pushes inside again, this time from behind. The slow drag of the thick cock makes Merlin gasp, his arsehole stretched and raw from the number of times they’ve fucked without the aid of anything but fingers, saliva, and come. He wants to cry out at the sensation; instead Arthur offers him an arm to bite and Merlin does gladly, not drawing blood but wanting to. His tongue washes the dirt and sweat from Arthur’s skin instead. 

“How many times?” Arthur asks, an old joke of theirs that now seems absurd. 

“Five hundred and two,” he says anyway. 

“Remember when you said never again?” 

Merlin lets out a relieved sigh as Arthur reaches around to stroke his swollen length, still moving inexorably in and out, a gentle cadence of fucking. “You were intolerable.” 

A nip at his ear and a quiet huff. “You weren’t exactly a rose yourself.” 

“I was a rose, you just forgot about the thorns.”

“I never forgot about the thorns, Merlin. Never.” 

Neither speaks for a while after that. It’s too much to remember the past: all of those ridiculous days when they bickered and argued like they had nothing but time, like they were young and invincible, like they’d only ever encounter monsters in fairy tales. Now their existence has become a pinprick on that previous, expansive map of life, and thinking too much about it . . . no. Best to focus on the love of Arthur’s cock and his sweet-stroking hand. 

Merlin’s head lolls back, his body an offering. Arthur’s arms are strong as he shifts his hips to fuck harder. He’s always been so strong; even through weeks of near-starvation and desiccating fear, his body has maintained its solidity while Merlin’s has grown thin. It gives Merlin comfort, that strength. At least one of them will survive, and he needs it to be Arthur. 

“If they come for us—”

“They won’t. Gods, the way you feel.” 

“Stop trying to change the subject.” 

“Then stop trying to bring it up while we’re fucking.” A quick snap of hips makes Merlin’s mind go fuzzy. And then Arthur cups his balls and squeezes, not tenderly. 

“Okay. Just keep doing _that_.”

The walls close around them until there is nothing but the heat of breath and the rigid length riding deep. Even though it hurts, Merlin clenches around Arthur to hold him inside. He can feel the strain in the trembling body behind him as Arthur waits, lets Merlin use his cock. Merlin can come like this, just from the rub of Arthur’s cock inside of him. He squeezes tighter and pushes back. Arthur groans. It won’t take much longer. Already Merlin can feel his orgasm building; it starts in the place where Arthur’s erection nudges, and fans out through his belly down to his balls and the base of his prick. The white-hot pleasure crests over him in waves even though he doesn’t have much to give anymore, just a couple small spurts of release that Arthur feeds back to him, chucking like the prat he is. 

They kiss as Arthur starts to thrust again, his tongue mimicking the action of his cock. It spears into Merlin’s mouth and searches for Merlin’s own, and Merlin wants to cry at the sweet invasion. 

Maybe this will be the last time after all.

“Stop thinking, Merlin,” Arthur whispers against his ear, and then so quietly Merlin can barely hear, “darling, my darling,” as he comes. 

They do have a plan; it’s just been too hard to leave this temporary haven. The cottage itself is remote enough to have thus far escaped the notice of the nightly patrols, but it won’t be long before they’re found. It never is. If only Merlin could use his magic, but it’s far too risky, especially given what happened the last time. The tattoo on his arm that marks him as _other_ throbs, a sinister reminder of all they’ve lost, all Arthur’s given up to be here with him. 

Minutes or hours later—who can tell anymore—Merlin startles at a sound outside. He tenses, clutches Arthur’s sleeping body close, and listens again. Maybe he’s misheard; maybe it was an animal. But no, the sound comes again, growing louder; a rhythmic crunch of footsteps on the gravel walk outside that makes Merlin’s blood freeze in his veins. The sound of a patrol. Merlin’s magic rises in defiance. 

“Arthur,” Merlin whispers into dirty, beloved hair. “Arthur. They’re coming.”

* * *

**69.**

It all started three weeks ago when he and Merlin became roommates. 

Merlin is a lot of things; he’s loud, nerdy, funny and irritatingly untidy, but he’s also the kind of guy who doesn’t have any modesty or shame to get naked in front of others, the kind of guy who’s comfortable enough in his own skin in a way that Arthur, with a much nicer body, sometimes isn’t. And because of that, Merlin walks around the flat only in his boxers, then paddles naked when he gets out of the shower and strips in front of Arthur before going to sleep. It’d be pretty amazing if it wasn’t _torture_.

And now, as an immediate consequence, Arthur is feeling irredeemably horny all the time, and doing things he shouldn’t, like thinking of Merlin whilst he sneaks his hand inside his joggers and takes himself in hand. It’s stupid, but it becomes even worse when he realises a pair of Merlin’s boxers are perched on the edge of his bed, just a few inches away from where his thigh is resting, and he reaches up with his free hand to thumb at them. He shivers, remembering Merlin wearing them yesterday before he went to bed, and instead of wrinkling his nose and shoving them to the floor, he fists the cloth in his hand and strokes his cock faster, finding his hand quickly smeared with precome.

He brings Merlin’s boxers closer to him unconsciously, until somehow he’s got them rubbing against his chest, eyes set on them. He has the incredibly mental idea of having a quick whiff, just so he can know the way Merlin smells, and because he’s a lucky lad, the door flies open in the exact moment where he’s about to burrow his face in the garment.

Arthur sits upright, throwing Merlins boxers halfway across the room in a rush, but Merlin —because of course it had to be him— has already seen. 

“What were you— are those my . . . boxers?” Merlin asks, slack-jawed as he stands in the doorway with his ridiculous hipster clothes, and his spiky hair and startlingly blue eyes as wide as plates.

Arthur panics, just a little. “Yes, and for your information, I can’t even have a bloody wank without your dirty stuff being everywhere,” he attempts to sound upset, but with a hand still wrapped tightly around his cock and his cheeks bright red in embarrassment, it probably doesn’t come out very convincing.

Merlin keeps staring for a good ten seconds before he closes his mouth, then drops his bag to the floor over a pile of clothes, and in a couple of strides, kneels on the end of Arthur’s bed at his feet. “You were smelling them,” Merlin enunciates very slowly, his eyes fixated on Arthur’s. 

“No,” Arthur frowns. This is turning really embarrassing now. He forgot Merlin’s the kind of guy who doesn’t mind speaking what’s going through his mind freely and openly, even if sometimes he causes people to be embarrassed. 

“Merlin!” Arthur yells affronted, when Merlin tackles him down on the bed and jumps on top of him. “Do you mind?” He gestures to his crotch. Unluckily for him his erection has not flagged, if only, he thinks it feels even harder now that Merlin’s lying over him, now that he can feel Merlin’s body warmth and has his face so close he could steal a kiss like he’s been wanting to do for a while.

Merlin smirks, and Arthur immediately decides he doesn’t like the look on his face. At least he doesn’t until Merlin crawls down over his body and surprises Arthur by saying, “Not at all.” And then replaces Arthur’s hand with his before sucking the tip of Arthur’s cock into his mouth. 

“Fuck—” Arthur quickly grabs a hold of Merlin’s hair, then looks down to see Merlin’s blue eyes staring right back at him. “Shit. You’re such a tease, Merlin. Have you been planning this? Going around naked as if you know what it does to me.”

Merlin doesn’t smile because he can’t as he closes his lips tightly around Arthur’s dick and slides his mouth up and down slowly, but his eyes are laughing as he swirls his tongue over the head, then giving merciless little flicks of his tongue against the slit and moving down to suck Arthur’s balls into his mouth, leaving Arthur babbling nonsenses to the ceiling before he comes inside Merlin’s mouth in record time.

The next thing he’s aware of is of Merlin saying between puffs of laughter, “I can't believe you were smelling my pants, what kind of weird scent kink do you have?”

Arthur groans, turning his face to his pillow and murmuring a loud, “Shut up, Merlin!”

* * *

**70.**

"How would you feel," Merlin says abruptly, "about not touching my cock?" His head's dizzy and muddled, whirling with sights, sounds, and sensations just from Arthur's lips on his neck, and his cock is eager, encouraged by the warm, solid weight of Arthur's body. "And me not touching yours," he clarifies, then thinks to add, "I'm not sick or anything," in case Arthur’s wondering.

Arthur's big hands are bracketing Merlin's hips; Merlin can feel the heat of his palms, the imprint of each finger, straight through his jeans and tee. "I feel like I haven't dry-humped since I was a teenager and hadn't planned on doing it again," Arthur says. “But you have a talent for getting me to do things I hadn't planned on, don’t you?"

"Okay good, good.” Merlin’s hands are fisted in the small of Arthur's back, sleeves curled over his fingers like it's somehow going to help - he's used to a little psychic noise during sex, sure, and he knows how to handle it, but Arthur isn't a little noise, Arthur is a _roar_.

It’s raining outside Arthur’s flat, great sheets of water pouring down the windows. The steady rain adds to the drum-beat in Merlin’s head, in his blood; he wants Arthur’s body, and he wants more of whatever it is in Arthur’s soul that’s making his head spin. He does know better than to reach for it, though. He’s sure he does.

With his knee between Arthur’s thighs, Merlin rocks forward; Arthur’s hands glide up Merlin’s chest, fingertips brushing Merlin’s nipples. “This can be good, right?” Merlin whispers.

“Yes,” Arthur says, “yes,” and dips his head, aiming for Merlin’s lips.

That's probably a bad idea too, but Merlin can control his own power, he _can_ , and besides, if he pulls back now, Arthur's face will go from hurt to cool disinterest in the blink of an eye, and they'll spend the rest of the evening sat on the couch watching telly. So Merlin focuses on Arthur's lips, soft but deliciously insistent, and on the sound of the rain, because they're real, of this moment, and nothing to do with the precipice he's treading. 

It’s not enough. The longer they kiss, the more basic concepts like up and down feel vague concepts Merlin. Arthur must be off-balance too, because in the end they both fall to the sofa together.

Struggling to sit up - Merlin needs air, he needs just a little space - Merlin realises he's gripping his cock through his jeans, trying for some measure of control. Arthur's eyes fly to his hand at once, to the long, hard shape beneath it.

"Christ," Arthur breathes, "and you're not going to let me touch that?"

"You can touch it, just...." Merlin makes a gesture: jeans stay on.

Leaning in close, Arthur settles his wide, heavy palm over the base and flattens his fingers, pressing lightly against the tip. "I have to imagine the weight of it, then," he says conversationally, "the smoothness, the heat? What it feels like when it’s slick? I can do that."

It takes everything Merlin has not to bite the nape of Arthur's neck, bowed in front of him, but he manages to drop his forehead to Arthur’s shoulder instead. He slips his hands around Arthur’s waist, then lower, and is rewarded not with a twitch but with an absolute _jump_ of Arthur’s cock under his hand.

That simple reflex, that loss of restraint in Arthur, and Merlin’s own is shot.

“I should probably explain,” Merlin says, and he does, the words tumbling out of his mouth, unplanned. He wants Arthur to understand and give consent; he doesn’t know if it’s the need to feel Arthur’s skin against his that drives him, or if he’s simply desperate to sink deep into Arthur and drown in all his days. Either way, all Merlin can think of is pressing against him now, knee to groin to chest to mouth. He may never come up for air again.

“You’re saying if I pump your cock, you'll see my future?” There's no disbelief in Arthur’s voice; after all, they did meet through Morgana. But there’s laughter, and an echo of inevitability; Merlin skims his fingers over Arthur's and overhears the sudden clear thought, _It’s Merlin, of course it’s ridiculous._ “Maybe you’ll just see us having lots and lots of sex,” Arthur says out loud, grinning. But before Merlin can despair that he's not taking it seriously, Arthur shifts tone and says, "What about pasts? Because sometimes I feel like I may have a long one." 

"Those too," Merlin whispers, heart pounding in time with the rain. "Those too."

When Arthur locks his fingers with Merlin's, Merlin closes his eyes, and gets ready to fall.

* * *

**71.**

As Arthur slops more paint onto the ugly wooden atrocity that’s supposed to represent a tree, he internally chastises himself for signing up with the theatre club. He’s in fucking university and he’s never been interested in acting before. That’s probably why he got stuck in the props department – his acting skills isn’t really up to par compared to the others.

He throws a quick glance at his watch. 8 pm on a fucking Friday night and he’s in a cramped prop room at school, surrounded by various butt-ugly set pieces for a play so obscure he’s never even heard of it. And it doesn’t look like–

At that moment, the very reason for Arthur’s strange theatre voluntary work stumbles into the room, and abruptly comes to a halt when he sees the blonde with the paint brush. His hair is black and his face a flushed red, as if finding Arthur crouched on the floor is something he needs to be embarrassed about.

“What...?”

“I volunteered. Elena had something she had to do today,” Arthur answers, “and apparently everyone else, too.”

It’s untrue, of course. Arthur asked to do some extra work, allowing him to stay late, because he guessed – hoped – that his crush would be here. He’s been waiting to get the other man alone for a long time – ever since the very first time he saw him, actually. He’d been sitting alone outside the philosophy department when a gorgeous, lean, dark-haired man had passed with a few friends. He had laughed at something they said, and that was it for Arthur. That laugh had ruined him.

Arthur had become slightly obsessed with the other man, and ever since he found out the guy’s name – Merlin – and that he spent most of his free time at the theatre club, he’d been looking for a way to get him for himself. And now, here they are.

Getting up and offering Merlin his hand, Arthur says, “I’m Arthur.”

“I know.”

When Merlin takes his hand, Arthur does something rash. Later, he’ll blame it on nerves and Merlin’s damn smile. He pulls Merlin in and clashes their lips together. There are a few very awkward seconds before Merlin kisses him back. But he does, and Arthur’s world as he knows it comes crashing down around him.

That’s not the only thing that comes crashing down, either, because suddenly there’s a loud thundering and the men spring apart, thinking that someone’s found them. Arthur looks around wildly. He can’t understand what made the sound, but Merlin starts to laugh and points to a thin metal sheet that’s lying in the middle of the floor.

“Cheap sound effects,” he huffs out between bouts of laughter.

Arthur doesn’t feel like discussing props. He’s already hard and the blood pounding in his ears makes him focus on the one thing he wants right now – Merlin. The long lashes, sharp cheekbones, messy hair, biteable neck. Eyes. Those fucking clear blue eyes.

Feverish with the desire to touch, lick, kiss Merlin, Arthur grabs his shoulders and presses him up against the nearest wall, holding him firmly in place with his body as his lips and hands try to claim every part of the other man as they can reach. It isn’t until he notices that his shirt is unbuttoned and half torn off his body that he realises that Merlin’s hands have been up to a similar activity as his.

“Fuck,” Arthur breathes as he struggles to get rid of the offending piece of clothing.

“Yeah. Please. Fuck me?” Merlin answers, his eyes gleaming with a mix of mirth and seriousness.

“Fuck... Yes!”

There’s a flurry of movement as they undress. Arthur hesitates for a moment before taking off his pants, but he needn’t have worried. Merlin finds something to use as a blanket to lie on and there he is, naked on his back, reaching out for Arthur like a needy child.

“Wow, you came prepared,” Merlin laughs, “Did you plan for this to happen?”

“Former boy scout,” Arthur answers as he rolls on a condom and slickens his fingers with lube.

Merlin just laughs, pulls him close and kisses him dizzy. When they fuck, it’s sticky and sweaty and Merlin starts to giggle and can’t stop when Arthur accidentally moans into his mouth. But it’s still okay because it’s Merlin’s laugh and that’s quickly becoming Arthur’s favourite thing in the world. He can’t be angry with Merlin when he laughs, and this... this is perfect.

* * *

**72.**

Had they not been in danger of committing one of the most dastardly crimes in the world of literature, the _cliché_ , one might have said that the night was dark and, indeed, stormy. Although the rain had yet to fall in torrents, there _were_ violent gusts of wind, and even though they didn’t exactly “rattle the housetops”, they seemed to be giving the window panes quite a battering.

Storms made Merlin nervous, Arthur remembered. A nervous Merlin was talkative, and restless, and fidgety, which made him, in Arthur’s opinion, the most annoying species of Merlin there was, even more than the Irritated Merlin, or even the Self-Satisfied Merlin. As far as Arthur knew, there was only one way to placate the Nervous Merlin, and that was…

“I’ve got your dinner, Sire,” Merlin said, bursting through the door and thoroughly interrupting Arthur’s train of thought. “I just finished polishing your armour, and I cleaned those clothes you ruined already — you should really be more careful when you’re eating — and I haven’t sharpened your sword yet, but I doubt you’ll be needing it, since we’re not going on any quests or anything, not with _this_ —” He gestured vaguely at the storm outside. “—running through the whole kingdom. Uh, but, dinner! Yes, dinner, I have it. So, here you go.”

Arthur rolled his eyes as his manservant hurriedly set a plate of food in front of him. “Are you alright, Merlin? You seem _a little_ nervous.”

“Me? Nervous? No, no, I’m fine, just absolutely fi—”

A booming roll of thunder caused Merlin to jerk, making him drop Arthur’s cutlery. He hastily stooped to pick it up, only to drop half of them again in an aftershock.

“Of _course_ you’re fine, _Merlin_ ,” Arthur said dryly, pushing away his untouched meal. “But if, for some silly reason, like a _thunderstorm_ , you weren’t alright, I’d be glad to help.”

Merlin stared for a moment, seeming to have forgotten the silverware he was holding. Then he abruptly set it down on the table and took a step back, shaking his head in a way that didn’t mean “yes”, but didn’t mean “no” either. “…What do you mean, ‘help’?” he asked suddenly.

Now it was Arthur’s turn to stare. “What do you _think_ I mean?”

Merlin didn’t reply.

“Oh God help me, Merlin. I mean _sex!_ We’ve only been doing it for _two years._ ”

His manservant shrugged and shook his head simultaneously, his face colouring. “I–I don’t know — it’s dark — there’s a knighting ceremony tomorrow — dinner’s still there, did you know? And—”

Another burst of thunder rang out. Merlin jumped again.

“Um, yes, actually. Yes, sex would be… good, yes,”

Arthur didn’t wait for him to change his mind. He stood up abruptly and grasped Merlin’s waist, pulling him close and pressing their lips together fiercely. A flash of lightning illuminated their bodies, and he felt Merlin’s tense immediately, but he began to relax when Arthur ran his hand up and down his spine underneath his tunic. Wordlessly, they stumbled over to the wall, where Arthur got rid of the tunic altogether before returning to his lover’s mouth, their kiss deepening.

“ _Arthur_ ” Merlin murmured, his voice low enough to rival the thunder. “I need…”

He didn’t have to complete his sentence for Arthur to understand. Within moments, they had stripped each other of all their clothing, and Arthur was sucking at Merlin’s neck. A second, brighter flash of lightning lit up the room, and Merlin half-whimpered, half-moaned, arching into Arthur eagerly. Arthur obliged without complaint, reaching down to grasp Merlin’s hard cock and rub the tip gently with his thumb.

“Do you like this, Merlin?” Arthur said, raising his voice to compete with the thunder that shook the window panes. “Should I stop?”

The other man shook his head, apparently unable to vocalize his response. His pale body was slick with sweat, making him glisten in the glow of distant lightning. Both of their cocks were so hard between them, throbbing in a way that made them feel as though they were going to burst. With one final thrust of his hips, Merlin came first, followed closely by Arthur, their seed mixing and staining their skin equally.

For a while, neither of them moved, feeling content to simply breathe and enjoy the afterglow. Eventually, Arthur pulled away and leaned against the wall next to Merlin, who was smiling.

“You know, Arthur,” he said, his eyes closed. “Thunderstorms really aren’t that bad, are they?”

* * *

**73.**

The model was gangly and pale, dressed in baggy jeans and an obnoxious hipster T-shirt. Arthur almost immediately regretted hiring him, but—

But.

There was something there – he had a wonderfully expressive face, open and friendly. He smiled a goofy grin when shaking Arthur’s hand, and ran his long fingers through his hair, embarrassed, when introducing himself as,

“Merlin. And please, don’t laugh.”

“I’m not laughing,” Arthur said, smirking. 

Merlin cast him a dark look from underneath his lashes. He bit his lip, leaving a white imprint of teeth where they used to be plump and red and kissable. 

“Shall we begin?”

He was noisy. Arthur wasn’t sure if he enjoyed the constant chatter. Merlin talked about his life – a poor Med student down on his luck, needs the money, and so on – while he undressed himself. That might have been just to cover his nervousness, though.

The sight of Merlin’s naked body gave him a pause, because Merlin was _fit_. He was all long limbs and sharp angles and defined muscles, taut and visible beneath pale skin, with the occasional jutting bone to keep things interesting. There was a dusting of dark hair on his chest, travelling downwards to the base of his cock.

He was limp but holy hell, it was magnificent – long like the rest of him, wide as Arthur liked it, flushed deep red at the head. He longed—he had to get Merlin hard.

Merlin stood up tall, stark naked but oddly unselfconscious about it. He made no attempt to cover himself.

“Well?”

Arthur set to work.

He chose a silky-smooth colourless rope; closed his eyes and ran it through his fingers, familiarising himself with the texture. Merlin watched him, wary, when Arthur approached, and said,

“Kneel.”

Merlin knelt.

Arthur pressed his hand to Merlin’s should-blade and _felt_ it – velvety skin and firm muscle.  
Merlin shivered slightly but didn’t move otherwise, and Arthur smiled.

“Tell me if it starts hurting,” he said. Merlin nodded.

Arthur moved his palms over Merlin’s arms and slid them downwards, until he had Merlin’s narrow, bony wrists in his grip. He guided them backwards, more and more, watching for any sign of discomfort on Merlin’s part, and exhaled, happily, when Merlin’s elbows pressed together.

“I do yoga,” Merlin said, unprompted. He gave a shaky, breathless laugh. “Never knew I would use it like that, though.”

Arthur smiled. He smoothed his thumbs over Merlin’s forearms and his lovely, lovely hands; and then took the rope and wove it around them, adding knots for decoration rather than practicality because Merlin seemed intent on sitting motionless.

He guided Merlin into spreading his knees apart and sitting down on his bare arse, his feet pressed to the either side of his buttocks. That left his balls lying on the floor and his cock, half-way interested, pointing slightly downwards. Arthur made quick work of tying his legs in this position, and then paused.

“Do you mind?” he said, hand hovering near Merlin’s cock. He looked at his face for the first time, and was slightly taken back – Merlin was flushing, his mouth open and his breathing rapid and shallow, his eyes glossy with pleasure.

“By all means,” he said in a strained voice. “Help yourself.”

Arthur took him fully in hand and stroked, feeling Merlin’s cock hardening deliciously under his touch. It was, indeed, lovely – he squeezed some lotion onto the shaft, relishing in Merlin’s sharp hiss, and moved quicker, easier now, pumping him fast-paced and restless.

“I’m going to—“ he began, but Merlin shook his head slightly, eyes pressed shut and mouth wide open.

He moaned, loudly – God, he was loud – when Arthur slipped a metal ring onto his cock, holding him erect but unable to come. 

Arthur sat back and admired the view – tight rope, Merlin’s pale body and the dark, angry red of the long curve of his cock – and found his hand drifting to his own dick, painfully neglected but just as hard.

Merlin caught the movement and opened his eyes, nearly black with pleasure. He smiled and said,

“Sure, what the hell, go ahead,”

\--and Arthur, with a groan, unzipped his fly and pumped himself until he was coming, embarrassingly soon, all over Merlin’s chest.

It took him a while to come back to his senses, just in time to hear Merlin say,

“I thought you were an artist?”

“You know, Merlin,” Arthur said, wonderingly, “I think I am.”

* * *

**74.**

Merlin felt the buzz before he heard it, but muffled though the sound was through his pants pocket, every head in the conference room snapped to him as it the unmistakable sound of a phone on vibrate echoed through the room. 

"Um, sorry." was all Merlin could say, flushing red. Phones were strictly not allowed in Pendragon Corp. meetings. Quickly as he could, Merlin excused himself from the room. He wouldn't have brought it at all, except that Arthur had him on a kind of 24-7 notice to be available at all times. Surely enough, it was Arthur calling. Merlin sighed. Now he just had to _find_ the prat, as Arthur seemed to think Merlin had some kind of magic that allowed him to know the exact location of his boss at all times. Fortunately, this time he had no such problem, as he turned the corner toward his cubicle, a solid Arthur mass blocked his way. 

"Follow me." Arthur commanded. Merlin sighed again. This wasn't exactly his job, to trail Arthur's every step, but he often found himself doing so often enough anyway. 

He followed Arthur into a small room, illuminating the space with a flick of the lightswitch. Harsh flourescent bulbs revealed two lines walled with file cabinets, four drawers high and black. He shuddered; having spent a good part of the previous week up to his ears in documents and shard-edged manila files, it was all to easy to imagine being consumed by one of these things. 

Arthur broke Merlin’s train of thought as he shucked his jacket, tossing it up on to the cabinet nearest the door, and hoisted himself up onto the adjacent one, his back to the wall, springing off the balls of his feet and lifting up to perch himself on the edge. His feet banged a little on the front drawers as he settled into the wall and smiled, charming, down at Merlin. Clearly, he was supposed to be impressed by this casual show of muscle and Merlin might have been, once, before he knew that any time Arthur made a show of bravado it meant that he was trying _not_ to betray something else. 

Merlin waited for the other shoe to drop.

“So, I think you should blow me”

“Arthur, did you really break me out of a company meeting for a _booty call_?”

Arthur shrugged, biting down on his lower lip. It was an overt attempt to seem casual and it should have been infuriating, but just as the harsh fluorescent office lights seemed to highlight everyone's minor imperfections Merlin could see something else there too, a sort of hopeful uncertainty that was a stark contrast to the Armani suit and crisp red tie. 

Merlin should have just walked away- he was _not_ Arthur's servant, after all- but then he'd always had trouble saying 'no' when it came to any of his so-called boss' demands. 

So he unbuckled Arthur’s belt in a frustrated sort of way, making sure that his eye contact betrayed nothing but pure exasperation. Arthur, for his part, looked satisfied, if not a little confused when Merlin proceeded to peel his pants and boxers all the way off. He didn’t say anything, though, and even lifted his hips to help, because even though this wasn’t exactly _necessary_ for a blow job he understood that Merlin enjoyed being good at his job and took pride in being _very_ thorough. 

Merlin shoved Arthur's naked bottom back toward the wall. He thought about saying something cute or biting, but fixing his eyes on Arthur's he saw not satisfaction, but a little something like desperation. He smirked in the way he knew Arthur liked, and swallowed his boss' proud, flushed cock in one go. 

"Merlin," Arthur moaned "Merlin, _please_." 

Smiling around Arthur's cock, Merlin sucked eagerly. He ran his tongue down from the base of Arthur's cock to the crown, before diving down again to take him deep. Raising one hand onto the cabinets, he pushed himself on and off Arthur's cock again and again, until they were panting in unison. It wasn't long until Merlin felt Arthur's hot release sliding down his throat. 

"That's it," Arthur panted "Swallow it all for me"

Merlin did, as he always would, to best serve his boss.

* * *

**75.**

"Just like old times." Arthur had said, when he'd asked Merlin to assist him getting ready for bed. But it was nothing like old times, the exhilarating feeling Merlin felt as he got Arthur out of his shirt, knowing the rumours, about King Arthur's inked skin. A king’s pledge to the druids, to magic. His breath caught in his throat as the tattoo was revealed. 

"Like what you see?" Arthur asked, sitting down lazily on the bed so the mark on his left shoulder was right in front of Merlin.

"Did it hurt?"

"Yes." Arthur answered, sounding stupidly smug about that. 

"I wish I had been there." Merlin whispered. 

The look in Arthur's eyes spoke volumes. 'I wish you'd have been here too.' Instead he said, "You're here now."

A true knight does not live in the past. The two years they spent apart from each other had been necessary. Once his magic had been outed, he wasn’t safe in Uther's kingdom. Arthur might have fought for him but Merlin never wanted bloodshed in his name. 

Merlin traced the drawing: the dragon, the circle - symbol of magic. And a name.

"Can you read runes?" Arthur asked. 

"Emrys," Merlin read, throat dry.

"Druids told me Emrys is my destiny. That I will give him everything and he will give me everything in return. Through the bond, Camelot will be bound to magic forever"

"Hmmm..." Merlin's mind returned to a distant time, a dragon telling him Arthur was his destiny.

"I haven't married. I'm waiting for destiny." Arthur said softly. 

Merlin looked down from the sincere expression in Arthur's eyes. It was too much too soon. Instead, his eyes fell on the bulge in Arthur's smallclothes. With a small grin he said: "Is that why you're horny? Or are you just happy to see me?"

"Gods, Merlin," Arthur growled, grabbing Merlin's hand and rubbing it against his hardening cock. Merlin happily complied, stroking Arthur through the fabric while untangling the laces. Once Arthur's cock sprang free, Merlin kneeled to take it into his mouth, the taste still achingly familiar from long-ago hunting trips.

Arthur soon moaned, bucking into Merlin's mouth, "Stop, stop, or I'll come."

"Thought that was the point," Merlin said, breathless and happy to find Arthur so responsive at his ministrations.

 

Arthur pulled away and Merlin stopped grinning, mouth falling open instead as Arthur leaned against the headboard, legs spread obscenely wide, bottle of oil in hand to moisten his fingers. Arthur held Merlin's gaze as he pushed a finger inside. Another followed, the finger on which he wore his ring. Watching it disappear in the cleft of Arthur's hole, Merlin's breath stuttered.

"Will you take me tonight, Merlin?" Arthur asked finally. Body loose and relaxed, Arthur looked at Merlin with an open, eager expression.

"What..." 

"I want you inside me." Arthur spelled out. 

Merlin's mind was reeling, trying to grasp what Arthur was offering. He used to pleasure his prince with his mouth, Arthur jerking him off in return, but _this_ was better than any fantasy that kept Merlin awake during two years of self-imposed exile.

He tore off his tunic, smallclothes quickly following. The smile on Arthur's face told Merlin his hair was standing up in even more directions than usual. He nearly jumped onto the mattress, crawling between Arthur's legs.

"Some enthusiasm! Here I thought I hadn't properly seduced you." Arthur said smiling confidently.

Merlin had dreamed about kissing Arthur again after their time apart, he'd imagined gentle, meaningful kisses, not the urgency with which Arthur now guided his cock into his waiting hole. 

Merlin lost himself in the sensation, barely registering the flicker of pain in Arthur’s face. It soon morphed into pleasure, Arthur urging Merlin to go faster, deeper. Merlin did, taking Arthur’s cock in hand and bringing him off in sharp tugs, matching the rhythm of his hips. 

Awed by Arthur’s beautifully blissful afterglow, Merlin's thrusts grew desperate, but it wasn't until fingers danced across his ribs, nails almost scratching, the metal of a ring cold on his skin, that he came with a sob.

Coming down from his high, Merlin mindlessly licked and sucked the marked skin on Arthur’s shoulder, wanting to commit the feel of it to memory. 

Arthur stroked his hair, muttering fond endearments and then suddenly, "My Emrys…" 

Merlin froze. He looked up at Arthur. "You know I'm Emrys?”

“Who else could it be but you," Arthur said, voice full of loving, silencing any more questions with a kiss.

* * *

**76.**

He visits Lancelot in Barcelona and they drive up the coast to Dalí's house, but what Gwaine will remember is his legs bracketting Lancelot's on the moped, and the tiny coastal village where they eat lunch under grey skies.

It rains on the way back and they detour to Lancelot's hometown and get pissed with his cousins. Gwaine wakes on a futon with Lancelot's beer breath on his cheek, his cock getting friendly with Gwaine's thigh. He wriggles against him. Lancelot knows what a slut he is. He's always had this urge to imprint himself on everyone he knows or takes a fancy to.

Lancelot hums into Gwaine's neck, his hips moving purposefully. Neither can be arsed to do it properly, but they push their trousers down enough to rut against each other. Lancelot surprises him by nudging his mouth open and kissing him passionately, sharing tongue and hot breath as they try not to groan too loudly and wake up the house.

Lancelot gives him a Polaroid camera at the airport. He's got puppy dog eyes and a near-constant boner and if Gwaine wasn't expected in Mexico, he'd stay. At the gate, he reaches for his ID and pulls out a Polaroid of Lancelot's dick, right in front of a flight attendant who laughs and winks at him.

*

Gwaine has a couple days in Acapulco, so he hits the beaches and bars. A woman buys him a drink, since he's the first Irishman she's seen in six months. He likes the way she orders Scotch, and her Louboutin stilettos look dangerous and sexy.

They fuck like animals back at her luxury apartment: Morgana on her hands and knees on the bed while he stands. In the shower he slides to his knees and sucks her clit until she screams, nails digging into his shoulders while she grinds against his face. She swears his beard feels amazing on her cunt but lets him shave in the mirrored bathroom. The maid'll clean it up, she says.

He takes pictures on the beach at sunset, both of them naked, laughing at his penis flopping in the waves, Morgana cupping her breasts with a saucy grin. He photographs her asleep too. She looks younger, the shadow of old pain gone, dark hair curling over her shoulder.

*

Cairo's a new city for him and he can't even enjoy it. Arthur's the most anal reporter Gwaine's ever worked with. Gwaine just wants to tell him shut up and let him _do his job_.

What's worse is Arthur has lived there a year and knows a lot. Gwaine finds himself picking up history books and reading government reports, just so he can keep up with Arthur's rapid-fire commentary. 

Then their story gets picked up by the AP. They're sleep-deprived and high from checking the constant stream of praise and criticism on Twitter. Arthur pushes him back and Gwaine's about to snark about his damn personal bubble, when he realizes Arthur's unbuckling his belt and his knees go weak. The floor is hard and cold and he leans back, mind blank as Arthur deepthroats him, his hands cupping Gwaine's balls and kneading into his crack.

He takes a lot of pictures with Arthur. Not his face, but his cock fucking Gwaine's hole, spreading his arsecheeks open to show how loose he is, legs in the air, on his back, on his front, at a club, the apartment, a party where they slip away to the host's bedroom.

Then the revolution's over, and Arthur goes home to his family.

*

He's half-listening to Elyan on the way to the apartment, his head out the window, sniffing the humid green air. It smells like home, but he's already missing the smoky, sandy Cairo air, the sound of men yelling, the call to prayer resounding between stone walls.

He pushes Elyan up against the door, rucks his shirt up and smoothes his palms over Elyan's sinewy body, finding familiar curves.

"Missed you," Elyan's breath whooshes out as Gwaine sinks down on his cock. He savors it, going slow and using his tongue on the head, swallowing everything. 

Gwaine's too wired for sleep. It's too quiet anyway. He spills out his pack on Elyan's pristine table. He's gotten good at traveling light, at leaving things behind. There's a couple envelopes jammed at the bottom, away from customs officials' greedy fingertips. He opens them and spreads out the Polaroids.

Elyan will get up soon. He'll come over and tut at the mess, eat the dates Gwaine brought, and peruse the photos.

"So," he'll ask, smiling, "Who's this?"

* * *

**77.**

Merlin was drowning. 

He had fought to stay above the water, but had still been dragged under. His body hurt from being thrown around in the ocean and was screaming from the lack of oxygen he was now receiving. He didn’t know what way was up anymore. 

He still tried to hold his breath, body burning with the need for air but knowing that if he opened his mouth the water would rush in. 

There was a flash of movement beside him but Merlin couldn’t look and see. 

Something brushed against him and with what little strength he had left he tried to twist his body away, instinctively curling in on himself. Then, what felt like hands were wrapping around his arms and Merlin couldn’t do anything. His head pounded and he could feel his mouth opening to suck in air even though his brain was screaming at him not to.

Instead of water burning its way through his throat there was another mouth on his, a source of warmth when everything around him felt cold. Air was being pushed into his lungs and Merlin sucked it up greedily, arms curling around broad shoulders. He could feel himself being pulled closer as heat spread through him.

Something brushed against Merlin’s legs, long and sleek as the man holding him started pushing them towards the surface.

OOooOOooOO

Merlin’s flat was small. The living space was only separated from the kitchen by an island where Merlin often ate. There wasn’t much space to begin with but to Merlin it had never felt cramped. Not until a supernatural creature stood in the middle of it watching him expectantly.

The creature happened to be Arthur, a guy Merlin had been running into frequently for the past year. He’d introduced himself when Merlin had split coffee on him.

Arthur had pulled him out of the water and onto the beach. Merlin had watched as gold scales had rippled across his skin and what had looked like a tale had faded away leaving pink flesh and two legs. Merlin could have blamed it on the oxygen deprivation. It would have made it easier if he had explained it away as a trick of the light.

He didn’t though. Merlin knew what he’d seen. 

It was too ridiculous to say aloud but it didn’t make it any less true. Merlin never thought he’d have to deal with mermaids, or one particular merman who had told him that he’d been following Merlin for the past year because Merlin was his mate. 

He didn’t ask if Arthur was sure, he could feel it. It was like an invisible rope binding him to Arthur, pulling him closer. It had been there since Arthur had kissed him under the water, helping him to breathe. 

“Why didn’t you say anything sooner?” Merlin asked.

Arthur’s lips twisted into a sardonic smile, “Yes, I could see that going over quite well. ‘Hello Merlin, I was born in the sea and you are the other half of my soul. Would you like a cup of coffee?’” His fingers brushing across the pair of sleep trousers Merlin had given him to wear as he admitted. “I didn’t want to scare you off.”

OOooOOooOO

He had given Arthur a spare pillow and blanket and had told him he could sleep on the couch tonight.

He was still having trouble processing the whole mermaid mate thing. A quick google search hadn’t turned up anything useful, but Merlin hadn’t expected it to. He could ask Arthur but he wasn’t quite ready to jump into that yet. 

Merlin was exhausted, even after a quick shower he could still smell the salt on his skin, but he couldn’t sleep. His body felt alive and if he concentrated he could sense Arthur nearby. It was equal parts terrifying and amazing. 

Merlin closed his eyes and slowly reached down, palming himself, remembering the way the gold scales had rippled across Arthur’s skin. He bit his bottom lip to keep himself quiet, all too aware of how thin his walls were and not wanting to wake Arthur. He grew harder picturing the way Arthur’s blonde hair, drying from the water and falling into his eyes as he had sat down on the couch. 

The bond flared to life and Merlin could feel Arthur, his arousal echoing Merlin’s. Merlin threw an arm over his eyes as he felt his balls tighten up and gold scales flashed across his own skin as he came. 

“Shit,” he breathed out and heard Arthur laugh.

* * *

**78.**

Arthur stood on a shore, watching a storm roll in over the lake. He counted the beats between the lightning and thunder, like he had as a child, and when there were only three beats, the rain started. 

He faced the sky, letting the fat, cool raindrops wash over him. As the storm grew violent, an awareness settled in, he looked into the grayness and realised he didn’t know anything, didn't know where he was, or how he'd got there. He knew nothing, except this storm, and he felt alone. And that felt very wrong, because he never felt alone, because of... and then he knew one more thing - Merlin.

He shouted the name into the storm and again, until he heard something or maybe it was only in his head. _'Arthur, oh god. Where are you?'_

"Merlin! I'm here."

"Arthur..." He turned to Merlin, who stood there mouth open, blinking rapidly as the rain pounded against his face. "You - how'd you know you had to call to me for the spell to work?"

"Spell?"

"It doesn't matter. It worked. I'm here... Arthur..." He sobbed and yanked Arthur into an embrace with such ferocity that they stumbled, and Arthur clung back, feeling right again.

"We don't have much time." Merlin whispered. "Do you remember?"

"I don't..." But then he did and he gasped.

Merlin pulled back. "I'm so sorry. I tried to save you... and to wait for you and - but I let you die -"

"Stop! I remember. Camlann. Morgana. Mordred. And you..." Arthur watched the rain drip off Merlin's eyelashes, wanted to brush them away and sweep away the pain in his eyes. "You being everything. _You_ didn't let me die. And I'm not dead now... am I?"

Merlin looked even sadder.

"Oh... but you're here to take me home...?"

"Arthur... no. Home isn't... it's been an awfully long time."

"How long? It feels like... I don’t even know."

"Very long. Everyone's... gone."

"Are you... too?"

"No! I'm alive. Mostly... went a bit mad.” He laughed. “Turned into a nutter, living in a cave, muttering obscenities to myself. Someone... she found me - helped me get here - into Avalon - get to you. But only for a short while. I have to go and..."

"I have to stay." Merlin nodded. "Then why did she...?"

"She owed me - us... we have unfinished business, she said."

"Unfinished business?"

Merlin shrugged, looking shy. "Was there anything you didn't say or...?"

Arthur remembered dying in Merlin's arms, looking into his eyes, yearning and loving and never wanting to leave him. "I wanted to kiss you, but I died first."

And Arthur had intended to kiss him now, but Merlin lunged at him. His kiss started hard, but grew tender and filled with such sadness that it told Arthur more about the time he'd spent alive and alone than he ever could have with words. 

Arthur brought them to the ground, grinding against Merlin, his cock painfully hard, as if all the years of unresolved longing had filled it, demanding to be released.

Merlin rolled them over, possessive, needing it more. "Don't have much time," he said and Arthur relented, holding Merlin’s face, kissing him and letting Merlin undress them enough to press their cocks together. 

"This isn't the last time..." Merlin panted, stroking them, while Arthur sucked on his neck, wanting a mark to stay with him, his heart aching because he couldn't. "You're destined to come back... to me. I can wait... now." 

The storm continued to rage all around them, beating heavy rain against their bared skin. "Faster, Merlin." Merlin rested his forehead against Arthur's, his hand speeding up, twisting, and with the right amount of pressure. And, when a bolt of lightning struck so close that the electricity made Arthur's skin tingle, and the thunder vibrated through his bones and his cock, he came, only a few seconds before Merlin. 

As their warm come mingled and dribbled onto Arthur's stomach and his cock throbbed in Merlin's hand, Merlin said, his voice breaking with emotion, "You're coming back. And I’ll be waiting. Forever, if I have to."

The edges of the world turned fuzzy and Merlin's voice sounded like it was in his head again. He tried to talk, but had no voice. He didn't know how they'd ended up here, but he knew it had been a gift. He forced his eyes open one last time, unafraid and smiling, like he had once before, wordlessly telling Merlin, _'I'll see you again and next time we're going to be brilliant - together.'_


	8. Group D (no warnings)

**79.**

**Thunder & Lightning**

* * *

**80.**

* * *

**81.**

* * *

**82.**

Summary: The King Stag takes his due at Beltane.

* * *

**83.**

* * *

**84.**

Merlin was wondering why Morgana was leaving in the middle of the night. He didn't see that one coming, though...

* * *

**85.**

* * *

**86.**

* * *

**87.**

* * *

**88.**

* * *

**89.**

Arthur cannot control his reactions... and Merlin loves it.


End file.
